BV  2848  .J3  B54 
Bleby,  Henry,  1809-1882 
Romance  without  fiction,  or,| 
Sketches  from  the  portfoli, 


WITHOUT   FICTION; 


OR, 


>ketc]^cs  front  tlje  portfolio  of  an  #lb 


By  henry  BLEBY, 


OHAIItMAN    AND    GENERAL    SUPERINTENDENT    OF    THE    ^VESLEYAN    MISSIONS 
IN   THE   BAHAMAS. 


"Truth  needs  no  flowers  of  speech." — Popk. 


NEW  YORK: 
NELSON     &     PHILLIPS. 

CINCINNATI:  HITCHCOCK  &  WALDEN. 

^  SUNDAY-SCHOOL   DEPARTMEXT. 


PREFACE. 


tHESE  sketches  have  been  written  at  dif- 
ferent times  since  1853  ;  some  of  them  in 
Barbadoes,  others  in  Paris,  some  upon  the 
sea,  and  several  in  the  Bahamas.  They  are  not 
tales  of  fiction.  All  the  persons  mentioned  in 
them  were  real  actors  on  the  stage  of  life,  and 
all  the  events  described  were  veritable  occur- 
rences. Should  any  hearts  be  moved  to  pity 
by  reading  these  stories,  it  will  not  be  pity 
wasted  upon  mere  imaginary  suffering.  If  tears 
of  sympathy  are  called  forth,  they  will  not  be 
shed  over  fanciful  distress  and  ideal  woe. 

The  narrative  element  possesses  a  subtle  fas- 
cinating power,  that  accounts  for  the  supremacy 
of  the  novel  and  the  story  above  every  other 
form  of  literary  art.  The  omnivorous  appetite 
that  prevails  in  the  nursery  for  such  stories  as 
"Jack  the  Giant  Killer,"  "Little  Red  Riding- 
Hood,"  and  "  Cinderella,"  is  a  silent  acknowl- 
edgment of  this  power.     Jack's  insatiable  love 


6  Preface. 

of  yarns  upon  the  forecastle  is  homage  ren- 
dered to  it.  And  the  preference  of  Sunday 
scholars  for  story  volumes,  above  all  others 
that  load  the  shelves  of  the  library,  is  a  tacit 
assertion  of  the  enchanting  influence.  The 
story  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  epic  and  the 
drama,  and  the  most  pleasing  essays  and  dis- 
quisitions are  those  which  embody  brief  stories 
for  enlivenment  and  illustration.  Even  in  the 
sacred  volume  the  narrative  element  abounds, 
recognizing  the  fact  that  the  taste  for  it  has  its 
basis  in  the  depths  of  human  nature. 

It  is  hoped  that  this  volume  of  truthful  nar- 
rative will  not  only  afford  amusement  and  grati- 
fication to  its  readers,  but  serve  also  to  deepen 
in  many  hearts  an  interest  in  the  great  work  of 
Christian  missions,  by  which  the  kingdoms  of 
this  world  are  to  be  subdued  and  won  for  the 
Prince  of  Peace. 


CONTENTS. 


Sketch  Pagk 

I.  Prayer  Answered 9 

II.  The  Famine  of  the  Word 38 

III.  The  Martyr  Missionary 69 

IV.  Judgment  Hill 103 

V.  The  Assassin 113 

VI.  The  Hell-Fire  Club 130 

VII.  The  Blacksmith's  Wedding 147 

VIII.  In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years  165 

IX.  The  Rendezvous  of  the  Buccaneers 180 

X.  The  Groundless  Panic 20T 

XL  The  Lost  Missionary 227 

XII.  Yellow-Fever  Victims 237 

XIII.  The  Midshipmen's  Frolic 253 

XIV.  Benjie  and  Juno 270 

XV.  Driving  Away  the  Rooks 277 

XVI.  Father  and  Son 328 

XVII.  The  Kidnapped  Noble 334 

XVIII.  Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties  362 

XIX.  Blighted  Lives 373 

XX.  Happy  Deaths 395 

XXI.  Crossing  the  Atlantic 41 5 


8  Contents. 

Sketch  Tjlqk 

XXII.  A  Child  of  Sorrow 445 

XXIII.  The  Funf.ral  Sermon 459 

XXIV.  A  Mother's  Dream 47° 

XXV.  The  Old  Sanctuary 481 

XXVI.  The  Curse  Causeless 519 

XXVII.  The  Wedding 532 

XXVIII.  The  Broken  Promise 540 

XXIX.  The  Murdered  Child 547 

XXX.  The  Broken  Heart 566 


|llttstrati;0n. 


Manchioneal  Chapel 2 


ROMANCE  WITHOUT  FICTION. 


I. 

Prayer  Ans'wered. 

More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 
Than  this  world  dreams  of.    Wherefore  let  thy  voice 
Else  like  a  fountain  for  me  night  and  day, 
For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep  or  goats, 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain, 
If,  knowing  God,  they  lift  not  hands  of  prayer. 
Both  for  themselves  and  those  who  call  them  friend? 
For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 
Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God. — Tennyson. 

•EAR  the  center  of  the  pleasant  little  island 
of  Antigua — which,  like  most  of  its  sister 
isles,  abounds  with  natural  beauties  and 
smiling  landscapes — on  a  sugar  plantation  delight- 
fully situated,  resides  a  Mr.  Gilbert.  He  occupies 
a  large,  well-furnished  mansion,  abounding  in  all 
the  luxurious  comforts  with  which  wealthy  West 
India  planters  generally  surround  themselves ;  a 
class  of  men  to  whom  the  words  of  heavenly  wisdom 
apply  with  much  truth,  "  men  of  the  world  who  have 
their  portion  in  this  life,"  and  who  deny  them- 
selves no  earthly  indulgence  that  is  within  their 
reach.  Mr.  Gilbert  is  one  of  the  principal  men  of 
the  island,  wealthy   and   well-educated;  and,  as 


TO  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Speaker  of  the  House  of  Assembly,  holds  one  of 
the  highest  official  situations  in  the  land.  An  ex- 
tensive proprietor  of  the  soil,  and  the  owner  of 
slaves  on  a  large  scale — several  hundreds  looking 
to  him  as  their  proprietor — he  is  regarded  as  one 
of  the  most  influential  persons  in  the  colony.  He 
bears,  however^  the  reputation  of  being  a  kind  and 
indulgent  master,  under  whom  slavery  is  stripped 
of  many  of  its  revolting  features.  None  of  his 
slaves  are  either  flogged  into  a  bloody  grave,  or 
ground  out  of  life  by  reckless  and  incessant  toil 
beyond  human  strength  to  endure.  Broken  down 
in  health  by  one  of  those  diseases  which  prevail 
within  the  tropics,  when  all  means  of  restoration 
have  failed  nearer  home  this  gentleman  is  advised 
by  his  medical  attendants  to  try  the  eff"ects  of  a 
voyage  to  England,  often  the  best  remedy  in  such 
intertropical  ailments. 

Navigation  has  not  yet  arrived  at  that  advanced 
degree  of  perfection  which  it  is  destined  to  reach 
in  after  years.  A  voyage  to  Europe  from  the 
West  Indies  is  a  matter  of  time,  and  is  not  without 
considerable  risk.  But  when' life  and  health  are 
at  stake,  men  will  make  sacrifices,  and  expose 
themselves  to  hazards  they  would  not  otherwise 
-encounter.  Mr.  Gilbert  resolves  to  act  upon  the 
advice  of  his  physicians  ;  and  in  one  of  the  well 
loaded  and  comfortably  fitted  ships  which  bear  his 
own  produce  to  the  European  market,  bids  adieu 
to  his  native  isle,  uncertain,  in  the  shattered  state 
of  his  health,  whether  he  shall  ever  look  upon 
those    lovely   shores   again.     It  pleased   the  wise 


Prayer  Answered.  Ii 

Disposer  of  events  to  restore  him  ;  the  long  sea 
voyage,  and  a  short  residence  in  England,  ac- 
complish the  purpose  for  which  he  has  left  his 
home. 

For  thirty  or  forty  years  John  Wesley  has  been 
passing  through  the  country,  a  flame  of  light  and 
love,  carrying  blessing  and  peace  and  salvation  to 
thousands  of  wretched  homes.  The  fruits  of  his 
God-honored  labors  are  covering  the  land,  and  his 
name  is  every-where  known  to  be  venerated  by 
multitudes,  who  owe  all  their  most  precious  hopes 
to  his  loving  toil ;  having  by  his  preaching  been 
led  to  the  Saviour  of  sinners.  Mr.  Gilbert  hears 
of  this  wonderful  man,  who  is  making  such  a  noise 
in  the  nation  ;  praised  by  some,  denounced  as  a 
troubler  and  a  fanatic  by  others.  Perhaps  it  may 
be  that  sickness  and  a  near  approach  to  the  con- 
fines of  the  unseen  world  have  not  been  without 
some  effect  upon  his  mind ;  or  that  God's  loving- 
kindness  in  his  restoring  his  shattered  health  may 
have  exerted  a  softening  influence,  and  predisposed 
his  heart  to  listen  favorably  to  -the  message  of 
Divine  mercy.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  the 
life-giving  word  lays  hold  upon  his  conscience. 
As  he  listens  to  that  servant  of  the  Lord,  who  has 
been  the  herald  of  salvation  to  multitudes,  a 
vivid  impression  of  eternal  things  comes  upon  his 
mind.  Thoughts  of  God  and  of  religion  are 
awakened,  to  which  he  has  all  his  life  been  a 
stranger.  The  past  and  the  future  are  presented 
in  a  light  altogether  new  to  him  ;  and  the  proud 
man  of  the  world — the  self-indulgent  slaveholder 


12  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

— is  found  humbled  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  earn- 
estly praying,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner." 
Burdened  and  heavy  laden  with  a  sense  of  sin, 
he  soon  forms  an  acquaintance  with  the  God- 
honored  man  whose  powerful  ministry  has  been 
the  means  of  awakening  him  to  a  sense  of  his  guilt 
and  danger  as  a  sinner,  and  ere  long  he  is  enabled 
to  rejoice  in  the  blessings  of  salvation,  passed  from 
death  unto  life,  and  made  a  child  of  God  by  faith 
in  Christ  Jesus. 

Mr.  Gilbert  resided  for  some  time  in  England, 
during  which  he  had  the  privilege  of  frequent  in- 
tercourse with  the  founder  of  Methodism,  who 
preached  in  his  house  at  Wandsworth,  and  bap- 
tized two  of  the  negro  slaves  he  had  taken  with 
him  to  the  mother  country,  who,  like  their  owner, 
had  heard  the  Gospel  to  salvation,  and  he  re- 
turned to  Antigua  about  1759.  Thus  to  John 
Wesley  himself  is  to  be  ascribed  the  honor  of  lay- 
ing the  foundation  of  the  prosperous  Methodist 
Churches  in  the  West  Indies.  Not  only  was  Mr. 
Gilbert  brought  to  God  through  his  instrumentali- 
ty— the  first  among  the  slave  owners — but  the  two 
slaves  of  that  gentleman,  received  into  the  Church 
by  baptism  administered  by  the  Founder  of  Meth- 
odism, were  the  first-fruits  and  the  earnest  of  a 
large  harvest  of  souls  lo  be  gathered  into  the  gar- 
ner of  the  Lord  from  among  the  enslaved  children 
of  Africa  by  that  ministry  of  Methodism  which 
Mr.  Wesley  originated. 

The  West  Indian  planter  is  a  greatly  changed 
man  when  his  foot  again  presses  the  soil  of  Anti- 


Prayer  Answered.  1 3 

gua.  He  has  not  only  gained  the  physical  health 
he  went  to  seek  in  Europe  ;  he  has  found  the  pearl 
of  great  price.  Once  a  child  of  wrath  even  as 
others,  having  his  portion  in  this  life,  and  caring 
for  nothing  beyond  it,  he  is  now  a  new  creature, 
translated  out  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness  into 
the  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son  ;  a  warm-hearted, 
devoted  member  of  the  Methodist  body. 

Settled  again  on  his  own  plantation,  he  no 
longer  looks  around  him  with  the  heedlessness  and 
indifference  of  former  times.  Once,  in  common 
with  the  men  of  his  class,  he  identified  the  negroes 
who  cultivated  his  lands  with  the  monkey  tribes, 
as  mere  goods  and  chattels  ;  or  as  being  at  best 
such  a  degenerate  variety  of  the  human  species  as 
to  defy  all  cultivation  of  mind  or  correction  of 
morals.  But  old  things  have  passed  away,  and  all 
things  have  become  new.  Those  dense  clouds  of 
prejudice  with  which  sin  and  selfishness  had  bur- 
dened his  mind  have  been  dispelled  by  the  bright 
Sun  of  Righteousness  shining  upon  his  soul,  and 
now  he  regards  the  sable  children  of  toil  around 
him  as  men  and  brethren — men  equally  with  him- 
self heirs  of  immortality,  and  equally  with  himself 
interested  in  a  heavenly  Father's  love,  and  entitled 
to  the  blessings  of  redemption.  The  love  of  God 
that  has  been  shed  abroad  in  his  heart  is  not 
mere  sentimentality.  It  is  the  loving,  active  prin- 
ciple that  produces  a  yearning  charity  to  his  fel- 
low-men. It  is  like  a  fire  in  his  bones,  that  will 
give  him  no  rest  until  he  makes  known  to  the 
thousands  of  souls  perishing   all   around  him   in 


14  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

darkness  and  sin,  and  to  persons  of  all  shades  of 
color,  that  glorious  Gospel  which  has  been  to  him- 
self the  power  of  God  to  salvation. 

It  soon  begins  to  be  whispered  that  there  are 
"  strange  doings  at  Gilbert's."  The  plantation  is 
known  by  the  family  name.  It  is  observed  that 
the  mill  is  not  in  motion,  and  there  is  no  smoke 
from  the  boiling-house  on  Sunday,  as  there  used 
to  be.  On  that  day  there  is  no  work  of  any  kind 
done  on  the  plantation.  Worse  than  this,  Mr. 
Gilbert  is  reported  to  have  "  gone  mad,  for  he  is 
trying  to  teach  religion  to  the  negroes  ;  and  he 
might  just  as  well  try  to  turn  his  mules  and  oxen 
into  men,  as  to  make  Christians  out  of  negro 
slaves." 

The  fact  is  that  the  master  of  Gilbert's,  con- 
strained by  the  love  of  Christ,  has  begun  to  do 
something  for  the  salvation  of  the  souls  living  and 
dying  all  around  him  in  ignorance  and  in  sin. 
He  first  of  all  gathers  his  household  for  domestic 
worship ;  and  many  of  the  slaves  of  the  estate,  as 
they  can  get  an  opportunity,  crowd  in  on  these 
occasions,  and  manifest  an  earnest  desire  to  know 
something  of  this  "  new  religion,"  as  they  call  it, 
of  which  they  have  never  heard  any  thing  before. 
The  two  converted  slaves  baptized  by  Mr.  Wesley 
tell  their  fellow-slaves  of  what  God  has  done  for 
them,  and  the  happiness  of  which  they  have  been 
made  partakers;  and  in  many  hearts  there  is 
awakened  an  intense  yearning  for  instruction 
concerning  the  things  of  God.  This  desire,  freely 
expressed  by  many  of  these  poor  ignorant  negroes, 


Prayer  Answered.  15 

he  regards  as  a  providential  call  pointing  out  to 
him  the  path  of  Christian  duty.  Regardless  of 
what  may  be  said  or  thought  by  those  around  him, 
he  boldly  takes  up  the  cross,  and  Sabbath  after 
Sabbath  speaks  to  the  assembled  negroes  of  his 
own  plantation  concerning  their  souls,  the  great 
work  of  redemption,  and  the  things  belonging  to 
their  peace.  And  the  work  grows.  The  slaves 
from  other  estates  venture  tremblingly  to  Gilbert's 
when  they  can  make  an  opportunity,  not  quite  sure 
that  they  will  not  be  driven  away  or  punished  ; 
but  they  become  more  bold  and  confident  when 
they  find  that  their  presence  gives  no  offense,  but 
is  rather  welcomed  both  by  Mr.  Gilbert  and  his 
people.  Then  some  of  the  white  people  go  to  see 
this  strange  sight — one  of  the  leading  men  of  the 
island  become  "  a  negro  parson."  After  awhile 
the  Sabbath  services  at  Gilbert's  become  an  ac- 
knowledged institution  throughout  the  district  in 
which  the  plantation  is  situated,  and  multitudes 
resort  thither  to  join  in  Christian  worship,  and 
receive  instruction  in  the  way  of  life. 

Probably  had  some  person  of  inferior  note  at- 
tempted such  an  innovation  upon  the  established 
state  of  things  in  the  island,  he  would  have  been 
indignantly  driven  from  the  land  by  the  ungodly 
and  deeply-prejudiced  slaveholders.  But  God 
has  wisely  chosen  the  right  instrument  for  com- 
mencing a  work  pregnant  with  such  grand  results. 
He  has  laid  his  hand  upon  the  proper  man.  The 
religion-haters  of  the  colony  may  scowl,  and 
grumble,  and  mutter  vain  protestations.     Many  of 


1 6    Romance  Without  Fiction. 

them  do  so.  But  Mr.  Gilbert  is  beyond  their 
control.  He  occupies  a  position  in  society  which 
sets  their  opposition  at  nought.  Consequently  no 
active  measures  are  taken  to  interfere  with  the 
Sabbath  services  at  Gilbert's.  In  this  is  seen  and 
recognized  the  all-controlling  providence  of  God. 

The  work  goes  prosperously  on.  First  one  and 
then  another  presents  himself,  groaning  under  the 
burden  of  a  guilty  conscience,  and  anxious  to 
know  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved.  They  are 
directed  to  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world,"  and  obtain  peace  with  God, 
and  rejoice  in  the  blessings  of  salvation.  After 
the  lapse  of  a  few  years  there  are  found  upward 
of  two  hundred  souls,  chiefly  negro  slaves,  rejoicing 
in  a  new  life,  and  in  the  spiritual  liberty  where- 
with Christ  has  made  them  free.  They  have  all 
been  gathered  into  classes,  after  the  model  of  En- 
glish Methodism  ;  and  many  a  negro  hut  resounds 
with  the  voice  of  prayer  and  praise,  where,  for 
generations,  there  has  been  the  unbroken  stillness 
of  spiritual  death. 

Dark  and  mysterious  are  the  ways  of  God  !  Mr. 
Gilbert  has  prosecuted  his  unostentatious  career 
of  usefulness  until  he  has  lived  down  all  the  re- 
proach that  was  cast  upon  him.  And  the  little  so- 
ciety of  which  he  is  the  overseer  has  become  firm- 
ly established,  when  his  health  again  gives  way. 
Many  tears  and  many  prayers  are  called  forth 
when  his  sickness  becomes  known.  But  after  a 
short  illness  he  passes  away  in  Christian  triumph 
to  the  realms  of  the  blest,  and  the  little  flock  of 


Prayer  Answered.  ly 

converted  souls,  who  have  been  brought  to  Christ 
through  his  labors,  are  left  without  a  shepherd. 
His  loss  is  greatly  mourned,  for  there  is  none 
left  to  take  his  place,  and  preach,  as  he  had  done. 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  the  word  of  life  to  the  poor 
enslaved  children  of  Africa,  who  had  too  much 
cause  to  say,  before  he  became  their  instructor  in 
the  things  of  God,  "  No  man  cared  for  my  soul." 
Gilbert's,  deprived  of  its  master,  has  become 
spiritually  a  desolation.  There  is  no  longer  seen 
on  the  Sabbath  forenoon  a  multitude,  clad  in  their 
best  and  cleanest  apparel,  going  up  with  joy  to  the 
house  of  prayer.  The  voice  of  the  beloved 
preacher  who  had  proclaimed  to  the  multitude 
the  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  is  silent  in  the  dust, 
and  gloom  and  sorrow  are  in  many  habitations. 

In  the  absence  of  every  thing  like  pastoral  care 
and  oversight,  it  is  not  surprising  that  during  the 
lapse  of  several  years  some  of  the  members  fall 
away,  and  classes  which  had  been  formed  are 
broken  up.  But  there  are  two  faithful  negro  wom- 
en who  strive  and  labor  earnestly  to  keep  to- 
gether the  scattering  flock.  Among  those  things 
which  their  faithful  instructor  has  often  delighted 
to  dwell  upon,  both  in  his  public  and  private  min- 
istrations, was  the  power  of  prayer  ;  and  he  con- 
tinually urged  them,  as  a  duty  and  a  privilege,  "  In 
every  thing  by  prayer  and  supplication  with  thanks- 
giving to  make  known  their  requests  unto  God." 
These  two  earnest  class-leaders  have  not  forgotten 
this.  They  call  to  mind  the  examples  he  had 
brought   from    the   Scriptures   to   show   how  God 


i8  Romance  Without  Fiction, 

hears,  and  ultimately  answers,  the  prayer  of  faith. 
They  remember  what  he  told  them  of  Abraham, 
and  Elijah,  and  Daniel,  and  others  who  pleaded 
successfully  with  God ;  and  they  urge  the  people 
now,  in  this  time  of  extremity,  when  God  alone 
can  help  them,  to  call  upon  him  in  prayer.  They 
want  a  teacher  to  supply  the  place  of  Mr.  Gilbert, 
and  show  them  the  way  of  the  Lord.  They  cannot 
conceive  how  it  can  be  done,  or  where  the  man 
they  want  is  to  come  from.  But  they  know  that 
nothing  is  too  hard  for  the  Lord.  He  is  all-sufii- 
cient,  and  can  do  whatsoever  he  pleases  ;  "for  has 
not  Massa  Gilbert  told  them  so  out  of  the  book  ?  " 
"  Let  us  tell  God  about  it."  "  Let  us  pray  to 
we  Saviour,  as  Massa  Gilbert  tell  us.  He  will  find 
de  way  to  help  we,"  is  the  continual  exhortation 
of  these  two  faithful  unlettered  women.  And  it 
is  not  without  effect.  Although  some  who  had 
been  gathered  in  have  fallen  away,  a  goodly  num- 
ber are  yet  in  earnest  to  "  flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come,"  and  save  their  souls.  Animated  by  the 
zeal  and  faith  of  this  devoted  couple,  they  fre- 
quently assemble  together  for  prayer.  Often  are 
they  hindered  by  the  almost  incessant  toil  exacted 
from  them  on  the  estates  to  which  they  belong  as 
slaves,  yet  as  many  as  can  get  together  continue 
"  instant  in  prayer."  Night  after  night,  whenever 
it  is  practicable,  there  is  a  little  band,  led  on  by 
these  two  faithful  slaves,  pouring  out  simple,  earn- 
est supplication  before  God,  the  burden  of  which 
is  that  he  will  look  in  pity  upon  their  destitution, 
and  send  them  one  like  "  Massa  Gilbert,"  to  break 


Prayer  Answered.  19 

to  them  the  bread  of  life,  and  help  them  on  in  the 
way  to  heaven.  Years  roll  on,  and  the  answer 
comes  not.  But  still  they  pray  and  do  not  faint. 
Greatly  tempted  to  yield  to  discouragement,  they 
call  to  mind  what  the  man  of  God  has  often  told 
them,  "  that  the  Lord  sometimes  tries  the  faith  and 
patience  of  his  people  by  keeping  back  for  awhile 
the  promised  blessing  which  he  is  sure  to  bestow 
in  the  end.  Like  the  woman  of  Canaan,  they  cry 
more  earnestly,  "  Lord,  help  us  !  "  looking  out  as 
eagerly  as  did  the  prophet  on  Carmel  for  the  sign 
that  their  prayer  has  prevailed. 

It  does  prevail.  The  all-merciful  One  cannot 
•  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  importunity  like  this.  It  is  in 
the  designs  of  his  providence  to  carry  on  a  mighty 
work  of  grace  and  salvation  from  this  small  be- 
ginning in  Antigua.  He  tries  the  faith  of  these 
simple-hearted  supplicants  for  a  long  season  ;  then 
he  sends  them  the  help  they  pray  for.  And  he 
sends  it  in  a  way  that  no  human  wisdom  could 
have  anticipated. 

About  this  time  a  want  is  felt  in  the  dock-yard 
at  English  Harbor.  A  master  shipwright  is  re- 
quired to  superintend  the  workmen  employed 
upon  the  ships  of  war  that  are  brought  thither  for 
repairs.  The  skilled  workman  that  is  needed  is 
not  to  be  found  in  Antigua.  In  these  times  of  war, 
operations  are  carried  on  upon  a  large  scale  in  the 
docks  at  English  Harbor,  and  it  is  a  situation  of 
considerable  responsibility  that  has  to  be  filled. 
The  skeptic  would  probably  curl  his  lip  in  scorn 
at  the  thought ;  but  it  is  the  pleading  importunity 


20  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

of  these  poor  praying  slave  people  at  Gilbert's  that 
influences  and  decides  the  filling  up  of  this  vacant 
situation  at  English  Harbor.  Men  often  uncon- 
sciously fulfill  the  Divine  purposes  when  acting 
only  with  a  regard  to  their  own  convenience.  So 
it  is  in  the  present  case.  There  is  in  the  Govern- 
ment service  at  Chatham  a  subordinate  but  clever 
mechanic,  who  through  Methodist  agency  has  been 
won  from  the  world  to  Christ.  Being  a  man  of 
considerable  intelligence,  and  possessing  talents 
for  usefulness  in  the  Church,  he  has  been  appointed 
to  fill  the  offices  of  class-leader  and  exhorter. 
Here  is  the  chosen  successor  to  the  saintly  Gil- 
bert, the  man  to  take  up  his  mantle  and  enter  into 
the  evangelical  labors  from  which  he  had  been 
taken  away.  To  him  is  directed  the  choice  of 
those  whose  province  it  is  to  fill  up  the  vacant 
post  at  English  Harbor.  They  select  him  for  the 
place  because  he  is  an  accomplished  workman,  and 
a  man  of  sober  and  upright  character.  But  God 
has  overruled  the  selection  in  his  own  unerring 
wisdom ;  and,  all  unconscious  of  the  sphere  of 
Christian  usefulness  that  is  awaiting  him  at  Anti- 
gua, John  Baxter  accepts  the  situation,  and  crosses 
the  Atlantic,  in  direct  opposition  to  the  wishes  of 
his  friends,  to  undertake  the  duties  that  have  been 
assigned  to  him  there. 

Mr.  Baxter  is  a  devoted  man  of  God,  who  for 
twelve  years  has  borne  the  reproach  of  Methodism. 
He  is  well  fitted,  both  by  nature  and  grace,  for  the 
work  that  lies  before  him  in  the  service  of  his 
Divine  Master.     It  soon  becomes  manifest  to  him 


Prayer  Ansiuered.  2i 

that,  in  accepting  the  Government  appointment 
that  was  offered  to  him,  he  has  been  guided  by  a 
wisdom  higher  than  his  own.  He  has  not  been 
many  hours  upon  the  strange  shores  before  he  is 
informed  of  the  work  begun  by  Mr.  Gilbert,  and 
interrupted  by  his  death.  He  soon  finds  out  the 
praying  remnant  of  the  scattered  society,  and 
when  he  begins  to  speak  with  them  of  the  things 
of  God,  they  at  once  recognize  in  him  the  man 
whom  God  has  brought  to  them,  in  answer  to  the 
many  prayers  they  have  sent  up  to  him,  that  he 
would  give  them  a  teacher  to  help  them  in  find- 
ing the  way  to  heaven. 

Two  days  after  his  arrival,  Mr.  Baxter  begins  to 
address  the  people.  It  is  Saturday  night,  and 
only  a  few  of  the  faithful  members  are  present, 
who  for  years  have  been  longing  to  hear  again  the 
voice  of  a  faithful  preacher  of  the  word  of  life. 
How  are  their  spirits  gladdened !  How  greatly  is 
their  faith  in  God  confirmed  as  they  listen  once 
more  to  the  joyful  sound,  and  look  upon  the  manly 
form  of  him  whom  God  has  brought  to  their  help  ! 
They  have  asked  God  to  send  them  a  teacher  of 
his  truth,  and  there  he  is  before  them,  in  their 
eyes  the  embodiment  of  the  promise  fulfilled, 
"  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive !  " 

The  news  spreads  rapidly,  "  A  preacher  has 
come."  On  the  next  day,  being  Sabbath,  some 
hundreds  flock  to  hear  the  messenger  of  truth. 
So  it  is  during  the  following  week  :  whenever  he 
preaches,  he  finds  a  multitude  athirst  for  the  word. 
He  accepts  the  sign.     God  has  brought  him  here, 


22  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

in  his  wonder-working  providence,  "  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  poor,  to  heal  the  broken-hearted, 
to  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives,  and  the 
opening  of  the  prison  doors  to  them  that  are 
bound."  He  gives  himself  heartily  to  the  work, 
rejoicing  over  many  souls  awakened  and  made 
wise  unto  salvation  through  his  labors.  He  does 
not  abandon  or  neglect  the  duties  of  the  secular 
office  he  was  sent  out  to  fulfill.  On  the  contrary, 
he  commands  the  respect  and  confidence  of  all 
with  whom  he  is  connected  by  uncompromising 
diligence  and  fidelity.  But  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
very  frequently  on  week  evenings,  he  preaches  to 
anxious  multitudes  the  Gospel  of  salvation. 

He  does  not  labor  in  vain.  His  heart  is  cheered 
by  glorious  success.  Many  a  dark  mind  is  il- 
luminated ;  many  a  sin-hardened  heart  melted 
down  into  true  penitence  under  the  power  of  the 
word.  Week  after  week  his  soul  is  cheered  by 
seeing  sinners  converted  from  the  error  of  their 
way.  The  classes  which  had  been  scattered  are 
gathered  again.  Other  classes  are  formed ;  and 
the  planters  are  as  much  astonished  as  the  Jews 
were  when  God  through  Peter  granted  unto  the 
Gentiles  repentance  unto  life,  at  seeing  religion 
powerfully  spreading,  and  producing  all  its  gracious 
fruit  among  the  negro  slaves.  They  have  been 
accustomed  to  look  upon  these  unfortunate  chil- 
dren of  oppression  as  no  more  capable  of  religious 
instruction  than  their  cattle  and  their  mules. 

Success  itself  becomes  in  time  a  source  of  em- 
barrassment.    Soon  after  Mr.  Baxter's  arrival  he 


Prayer  Answered.  23 

had  written  to  Mr.  Wesley,  "  The  old  standers  de- 
sire that  I  would  inform  you  that  you  have  many 
children  in  Antigua  whom  you  never  saw."  A 
year  later  he  writes  :  "  Six  hundred  of  them  (the 
negroes)  have  joined  the  society  ;  and,  if  using  the 
means  of  grace  be  any  proof,  we  may  conclude 
they  are  in  earnest.  Some  of  them  come  three 
or  four  miles  after  the  labors  of  the  day,  that  they 
may  be  present  at  eight  o'clock  to  hear  the  word ; 
and  on  Sundays  many  come  nine  or  ten  miles  bare- 
footed to  meet  their  classes."  Mr.  Baxter  is  in 
labors  abundant.  Every  evening,  after  the  duties 
of  the  day  are  over,  this  devoted  servant  of  Christ 
rides  to  one  of  the  plantations  where  the  required 
permission  has  been  granted,  to  meet  with  and 
preach  to  the  people  there,  and  then  returns  home 
to  be  ready  for  the  secular  duties  of  the  morrow. 
The  entire  Sabbath  is  devoted  to  ministerial  work. 
It  is  very  desirable  that  a  preacher  be  sent  from 
home  to  take  charge  of  the  growing  Church  ;  that, 
however,  is  impracticable,  or  the  zeal  of  John 
Wesley  would  have  led  him  favorably  to  respond 
to  the  appeals  addressed  to  him  on  this  sub- 
ject. 

But  the  work  is  the  Lord's,  and  he  fails  not  to 
provide  for  it.  When  Mr.  Baxter  is  well-nigh 
overwhelmed  with  the  care  of  this  expanding 
cause,  another  member  of  the  Gilbert  family,  or 
one  bearing  the  same  name,  is  sent  to  his  aid.  A 
Mrs.  Gilbert  has  claims  upon  a  plantation  in  Anti- 
gua, and  failing  to  receive  her  annuity  regularly, 
she  is  compelled  to  visit  the  West  Indies.     She 


24  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

has  been  a  member  of  the  Methodist  Society  in 
England  when  it  was  a  sect  every-where  spoken 
against,  and  when  it  required  both  resolution  and 
fortitude  to  be  identified  with  it.  On  her  arrival 
in  Antigua  she  sees  and  acknowledges  the  hand 
of  the  Lord  in  bringing  her  to  this  far-off  land 
that  she  may  render  much-needed  aid  to  a  faithful 
servant  of  his  master,  who,  like  Issachar,  "  is  crouch- 
ing down  under  two  burdens,"  either  of  which  is 
quite  sufficient  for  any  man  to  bear.  This  Chris- 
tian lady  enters  cheerfully  and  energetically  into 
the  work,  recognizing  the  leadings  of  the  cloud 
that  has  conducted  her  to  the  sunny  land.  "  Had 
the  estate,"  she  observed,  "  regularly  paid  my  an- 
nuity, I  should  have  rested  in  my  native  clime,  and 
quietly  enjoyed  those  means  of  grace  which  I  so 
highly  prize ;  but  God  hath  his  way  in  the  whirlwind. 
I  did  not  know  that  he  had  any  thing  for  me  to  do 
in  his  vineyard,  nor  could  I  suppose  that  he  would 
use  so  mean  an  instrument.  But  my  work  was  pro- 
vided. Immediately  on  my  arrival  I  was  called 
on  to  supply  those  deficiencies  which  the  secular 
affairs  of  Mr.  Baxter  rendered  unavoidable." 

The  help  thus  providentially  sent  to  Mr.  Bax- 
ter affords  temporary  relief,  but  soon  greatly  in- 
creases the  trouble  and  difficulty.  This  Christian 
lady  opens  her  house  to  all  that  will  attend  at  family 
prayer  every  day,  and  once  in  every  week  for  the 
reading  of  the  Scriptures.  Both  whites  and  blacks 
attend  in  considerable  numbers,  and  a  new  im- 
pulse is  given  to  the  soul-saving  work.  The  so- 
cieties largely  increase,  and  the  pressure  of  duty 


Prayer  Answered.  25 

and  responsibility  becomes  heavier  than  it  has 
ever  been  before.  One  urgent  application  after 
another  is  sent  to  Mr.  Wesley.  But,  though 
earnestly  desirous  of  sending  the  much-required 
help,  he  is  unable  to  do  so.  God,  however,  is 
mindful  of  the  work  that  is  turning  many  to  right- 
eousness, and  again  answers  prayer  in  sending  help 
to  those  faithful  laborers.  Driven  by  stress  of 
weather  to  the  shores  of  Antigua,  a  ship  drops  her 
anchor  in  the  harbor  that  has  on  board  a  Meth- 
odist family  bound  to  the  plantations  in  Virginia, 
They  have  been  unscrupulously  imposed  upon,  and 
shamefully  treated  by  the  captain  ;  so  that  when 
the  vessel,  after  thirteen  weeks'  contention  with 
the  elements,  is  compelled  to  put  into  Antigua, 
where  the  sufferings  they  have  endured  are 
made  known,  they  are  advised  by  kind  and  sym- 
pathizing friends  whom  they  meet  among  the 
Methodists  to  leave  her.  The  same  friends  also 
raise  a  subscription  to  pay  for  their  passage,  and 
set  them  free  from  the  power  of  the  tyrant  into 
whose  hands  they  have  unhappily  fallen.  The 
father  of  the  family  is  an  old  man,  who  has  been 
for  some  years  a  devoted  member  of  the  Meth- 
odist Society  at  Waterford,  in  Ireland.  His  two 
sons,  both  of  them  grown-up  men,  soon  find  em- 
ployment suited  to  their  condition  and  capacities, 
one  at  the  dock-yard,  and  the  other  on  a  planta- 
tion. The  old  man  displays  gifts  and  piety  that 
render  him  a  valuable  helper  to  Mr.  Baxter  and 
Mrs.  Gilbert :  and,  thus  strengthened,  the  work 
spreads  and  grows  more  and  more. 


26  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Eight  years  have  elapsed  since  Mr.  Baxter  en- 
tered into  the  labors  of  the  lamented  Gilbert. 
They  have  been  years  of  toil  and  anxiety,  and  yet 
of  joy  and  triumph.  Every  year  has  witnessed 
considerable  accessions  to  the  number  of  those 
who  have  experienced  the  saving  power  of  Divine 
grace.  A  chapel  has  been  erected  in  the  principal 
town  of  the  island,  in  which  a  large  number  of  all 
classes  in  the  community  assemble  every  Sab- 
bath to  worship  God  and  hear  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus.  The  societies,  that  numbered  about  two 
hundred  when  Mr.  Gilbert  was  so  mysteriously 
taken  from  their  head,  have  now  increased  to  over 
two  thousand.  "  I  find  it  hard  to  flesh  and  blood," 
says  Mr.  Baxter  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Wesley,  "  to 
work  all  day  and  then  ride  ten  miles  into  the 
country  at  night  to  preach."  The  need  for  minis- 
terial help  has  become  almost  overwhelming. 
Neither  Mr.  Baxter,  who  has  taken  to  himself  a 
wife  that  is  a  true  helpmeet,  nor  Mrs.  Gilbert, 
who  devotes  all  her  time  and  energies  to  the  cause, 
can  hope  to  hold  out  long  under  this  severe  and 
continually  increasing  pressure.  There  seems  to 
be  no  help  in  man.  Even  the  large  warm  heart  of 
John  Wesley  fails  them  ;  for,  in  the  multiplicity  of 
his  labors  and  advancing  infirmities  of  age,  he  can 
find  no  means  of  furnishing  the  aid  he  earnestly 
desires  to  afford  to  the  little  Methodist  flock  in 
the  isles  of  the  sea. 

But  it  is  now  remembered  how  prayer  once  be- 
fore moved  the  Lord's  hand  to  send  help  in  the 
time  of   need.     When   the  society  was  scattered 


Prayer  Answered.  2/ 

after  the  death  of  Mr.  Gilbert,  the  earnest  interces- 
sions of  a  faithful  few  prevailed  with  God,  and  he 
took  a  man  from  the  dock-yard  at  Chatham,  and 
brought  him  to  the  bereaved  flock,  to  become  their 
pastor  and  instructor  in  divine  things.  "  The 
Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened,  neither  is  his  ear 
heavy."  He  can  find  the  means  of  supplying 
their  great  want.  All  along  Mr.  Baxter  and  Mrs. 
Gilbert  have  been  praying  that  some  faithful  la- 
borers might  be  sent  to  assist  them  in  the  great 
work.  But  now  the  whole  Church  is  stirred  up 
with  themselves  to  more  special  pleading  with  God 
on  this  behalf.  Week  after  week  meetings  are 
held  in  the  chapel  and  on  the  plantations  for  this 
purpose  ;  and  God  is  earnestly  entreated  to  send 
forth  laborers  into  this  field,  where  the  harvest  is 
already  great. 

They  do  not  pray  in  vain.  As  in  the  former 
instance,  prayer  is  heard  and  answered,  and  in  a 
way  that  wondrously  displays  the  all-prevailing, 
all-controlling,  providence  of  God ;  showing  how 
He  who  hears  the  prayers  of  the  faithful  has  "  his 
way  in  the  whirlwind,"  riding  "  upon  the  heavens  " 
in  their  help,  and  "  in  his  excellency  on  the  sky." 

It  is  in  the  autumn  of  1786 — when  for  several 
years  earnest  and  united  prayer  has  been  going  up 
to  heaven  from  the  widely  scattered  societies  in 
Antigua,  that  God  would  send  them  ministers  to 
meet  the  demands  for  instruction  of  the  scattered 
and  increasing  congregations — that  Dr.  Coke  em- 
barks at  Gravesend  with  a  band  of  missionaries. 
The   three   companions  of  the   good   doctor   are 


28  Romance  Without  Fiction, 

Messrs.  Warrener,  Hammett,  and  Clarke.  They 
are  bound  to  Nova  Scotia,  where  a  Wesleyan 
Mission  has  been  commenced,  and  a  reinforcement 
of  missionary  laborers  is  required  to  meet  the  de- 
mands of  the  growing  work.  Appointed  by  the 
conference  to  go  to  British  North  America,  they 
have  no  thought  about  the  West  Indies  and  the 
praying  people  there ;  nor  have  they  the  slightest 
expectation  of  ever  visiting  those  sunny  regions  of 
the  West,  But  "  the  steps  of  a  good  man  are  or- 
dered by  the  Lord,"  and  he  directs  and  over- 
rules all  human  events  for  the  accomplishment 
of  his  own  wise  purposes.  There  are  prayers  reg- 
istered in  heaven  which  are  to  influence  their 
movements,  and  give  their  voyage  a  direction  al- 
together unexpected. 

On  the  24th  of  September  the  missionary  band 
join  the  ship  which  is  to  be,  much  longer  than 
they  anticipated,  their  home  upon  the  deep,  and 
they  commence  their  voyage  under  circumstances 
not  the  most  auspicious.  Their  course  down  the 
Channel  is  both  rough  and  dangerous.  A  storm  of 
unusual  severity  and  duration  assails  the  vessel, 
during  which  .their  safety  is  imperiled  by  collision 
with  a  sloop  ;  and  they  also  narrowly  escape  the 
danger  of  being  run  down  by  a  large  frigate,  driven 
by  the  fury  of  the  tempest  across  their  path. 
Battered  and  tossed  about  for  many  days  at  the 
mercy  of  the  elements,  it  is  not  until  the  end  of 
the  third  week  that  they  are  able  to  pass  the  Land's 
End,  and  fairly  stretch  out  into  the  wide  and 
angry  Atlantic. 


Prayer  Answered.  29 

But  this  is  only  the  beginning  of  sorrows  to  the 
tempest-tossed  voyagers.  They  encounter  a 
succession  of  fierce  gales  day  after  day,  causing 
the  waters  to  rise  and  swell  into  waves  of  mount- 
ainous dimensions,  and  driving  them  far  out  of  the 
course  they  want  to  pursue.  After  nine  weeks  of 
this  rough  kind  of  life  a  greater  peril  threatens 
them,  for  the  ship  is  found  to  have  sprung  a  dan- 
gerous leak,  and  it  is  with  difficulty  the  water  can 
be  kept  under  by  the  constant  use  of  the  pumps. 
Before  effectual  measures  can  be  adopted  to 
remedy  this  evil  a  fierce  whirling  tempest,  worse 
than  any  thing  they  have  encountered  before, 
comes  upon  them,  and  the  vessel  is  in  imminent 
danger  of  foundering.  Axes  are  in  readiness  to 
cut  away  the  masts,  and  both  crew  and  passengers 
feel  that  there  is  but  a  step  between  them  and 
eternity.  Great  are  the  searchings  of  heart  which 
these  continuous  perils  cause  in  the  missionary 
band.  But  they  know  in  whom  they  have  be- 
lieved ;  and,  raised  above  all  anxious  fear,  they 
feel,  with  the  apostle,  "  For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ 
and  to  die  is  gain." 

It  is  one  of  the  aggravations  of  their  condition 
that  the  commander  of  the  vessel  that  is  bearing 
them  over  the  sea  is,  like  too  many  more  of  his 
class,  ignorant,  surly,  and  brutal,  and  the  slave  of 
a  vulgar  superstition.  Owing  probably  to  a  mis- 
understanding of  Jonah's  history,  the  superstitious 
notion  is  held  by  many  whose  business  leads  them 
to  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  that  the  presence 
of  a  minister  of  religion  on  board  brings  bad  luck 


30  Romance  Without  Fictiok. 

to  a  ship's  crew.  The  captain  is  one  of  these,  and 
every  disaster  that  occurs  on  the  voyage  is  by  him 
attributed  to  the  influence  of  the  missionaries  on 
board  the  vessel.  From  the  beginning  he  has 
looked  with  a  strong  feeling  of  dislike  upon  these 
men  of  God,  and  every  fresh  trouble  that  occurs 
adds  to  the  gloom  and  surliness  of  his  disposition. 
The  more  they  pray  the  worse  becomes  the 
weather,  in  the  captain's  opinion,  and  the  greater 
the  danger  to  the  ship.  At  length  the  brute  in 
him  becomes  so  thoroughly  aroused  that  he  is  on 
the  point  of  imitating  the  conduct  of  the  mariners 
in  the  case  of  Jonah,  by  throwing  Dr.  Coke  over- 
board, to  propitiate  the  angry  spirits  of  the  deep. 
Though  restrained  from  proceeding  to  this  ex- 
tremity, he  assails  the  doctor  with  personal  vio- 
lence, administering  sundry  cuffs  and  kicks,  and 
in  his  frenzy  seizing  upon  some  of  the  books  and 
papers  that  overspread  the  table  in  the  doctor's 
cabin  and  hurling  them  into  the  sea.  These 
surly  humors  and  proceedings  of  the  captain  do 
not  by  any  means  add  to  the  comfort  of  the  mis- 
sionary travelers;  but  they  endure  them  patiently, 
as  they  do  the  other  evils  and  discomforts  of  a 
miserable  voyage,  rejoicing  that  they  are  not  only 
called  to  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but 
also  to  suffer  for  his  sake. 

The  captain's  ebullitions  of  violent  temper  bring 
no  improvement  of  tlie  weather.  For  sixty-eight 
days,  with  scarcely  any  intermission,  they  have 
been  driven  about  by  the  fury  of  the  elements,  often 
at  their  wits'  end,  and  seemingly  ready  to  perish. 


Prayer  Anszvered.  31 

As  yet  there  is  no  improvement.  On  the  sixty- 
ninth  day  they  are  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  hurri- 
cane. The  ship  is  thrown  on  her  beam  ends,  and 
the  passengers  are  crying  out,  "  Pray  for  us,  doc- 
tor, for  we  are  just  gone."  But  the  Lord  inter- 
poses, as  he  has  done  many  times  before  when 
they  seemed  to  be  in  the  last  extremity,  and  by 
the  blowing  away  of  the  sails  the  ship  is  relieved 
from  her  imminent  danger,  and  they  drive  before 
the  terrible  gale  with  bare  spars  until  its  violence 
has  in  some  degree  expended  itself.  The  provis- 
ions are  now  getting  low,  and  the  water  supply  is 
beginning  to  fail ;  for  it  will  soon  be  three  months 
since  they  left  the  Thames.  Nor  is  there  the 
slightest  prospect  of  a  favorable  change  in  the 
weather. 

In  these  circumstances  the  captain  summons  a 
sort  of  council  from  among  the  passengers  to  con- 
sider what  is  best  to  be  done.  The  ship  is  in  bad 
condition  and  very  leaky,  owing  to  her  fierce  and 
protracted  conflict  with  the  elements,  and  he  ex- 
presses it  as  his  opinion  that  it  is  hopeless  to  at- 
tempt to  reach  Halifax  in  the  face  of  such  stormy 
weather  as  they  have  encountered  for  so  many 
weeks;  and  even  with  fine  weather  the  provisions 
would  not  hold  out  for  the  voyage.  With  one 
consent  it  is  determined,  as  that  which  seems  to  be 
most  practicable,  to  give  up  the  attempt  to  reach 
Nova  Scotia  and  shape  their  course  to  the  West 
Indies.  The  sails  are  altered  accordingly  ;  they 
direct  their  course  in  a  more  southerly  direction, 
and  a  few  days  suffice  to  carry  them   out  of  the 


32  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

region  of  storm  and  tempests.  A  clear  blue  sky 
is  now  above  them,  and  the  water  is  comparatively 
smooth.  A  favorable  breeze  bears  them  swiftly  on 
their  course.  The  cold  chills  of  winter  speedily 
change  to  a  balmy  summer  temperature.  A 
tropical  bird  hovers  about  the  ship  ;  and  after  the 
lapse  of  eleven  days  from  the  time  they  turned 
their  vessel's  prow  toward  the  West  Indies  they 
discover  land.  It  proves  to  be  the  island  of  An- 
tigua, and  early  on  the  morning  of  the  25th  of  De- 
cember, to  the  great  joy  of  all  on  board,  they  find 
themselves  in  the  pleasant  land-inclosed  harbor 
of  St.  John. 

As  soon  as  the  anchor  is  dropped  Dr.  Coke  and 
his  companions  go  ashore,  with  the  view  of  in- 
quiring for  Mr.  Baxter,  of  whose  labors  and  suc- 
cesses in  Antigua  Dr.  Coke  is  not  entirely  ignorant. 
In  passing  along  the  street  from  the  landing-place 
one  of  the  first  persons  they  fall  in  with  is  Mr. 
Baxter  himself,  on  his  way  to  the  chapel  to  cele- 
brate the  public  services  of  the  Christmas  festival. 
The  joy  of  the  meeting  is  great  on  both  sides, 
though  for  widely  different  reasons.  Dr.  Coke 
and  his  fellow-voyagers  rejoice  that  they  have 
been  thus  graciously  delivered  from  the  perils  of 
the  sea.  With  Mr.  Baxter  there  is  joy  in  that  God 
has  answered  prayer  and  sent  the  help  so  long  de- 
sired. Upon  the  doctor  devolves  the  services  of 
the  day.  Thrice  to  large  and  attentive  audiences 
does  he  hold  forth  the  word  of  life,  and  declare 
the  wonders  of  that  love  of  God  which  spared  not 
his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all. 


Prayer  Anszvered.  33 

But  who  shall  describe  the  gladness  of  the  peo- 
ple, or  tell  of  the  confirmation  given  to  their  faith 
in  God  by  this  impressive  and  wonderful  answer 
•  to  their  prayers  ?  For  months,  for  years,  they  ha.ve 
been  pleading  with  God  in  earnest  supplication 
that,  as  he  sent  Mr.  Baxter  to  their  aid  when  they 
prayed  so  earnestly  in  that  behalf,  so  now  he 
would  by  some  means,  not  difficult  to  heavenly 
wisdom  to  discover,  send  them  ministers  to  be 
their  instructors  and  guides  in  the  way  of  life. 
And,  lo  !  the  answer  has  come.  While  they  have 
been  praying  God  has  heard  them,  and  in  his  own 
wise  and  perfect  way  has  been  working  for  them, 
and  giving  such  a  direction  to  passing  events  as  to 
fulfill  the  desire  of  their  hearts.  There  they  are  ; 
the  very  men  they  have  wanted  !  the  very  men 
they  have  prayed  for!  brought,  contrary  to  their 
own  wishes  and  in  opposition  to  their  most 
strenuous  efforts,  across  the  broad  stormy  ocean 
to  Antigua ;  faithful  ministers  of  the  Gospel  of 
peace  !  What  a  wonderful  proof  is  this  of  the 
power  of  prayer,  and  what  an  encouragement  in 
every  thing  to  make  known  their  wishes  unto 
God  !  Prayer  has  raised  up  the  stormy  wind  and 
lashed  the  ocean  waves  into  fury  to  drive  these 
men  of  God  far  from  their  intended  course  and 
bring  them  to  a  strange  land,  a  land  altogether  far 
from  their  thoughts,  there  to  find  a  people  pre- 
jiared-  of  the  Lord  for  their  evangelical  labors,  and 
to  gather,  in  an  unexpected  field,  a  precious  har- 
vest of  immortal  souls. 

Nor  do  the  missionary  band  fail  to  consider  the 


34  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

works  of  the  Lord  and  regard  the  operation  of  his 
hands.  When  they  look  at  the  work  of  the  Lord 
that  for  twenty-six  years  has  been  going  on  in  the 
colony,  first  through  the  labors  of  Mr.  Gilbert,  and 
then  through  the  agency  of  Mr.  Baxter;  when 
they  observe  the  proportions  to  which  it  has 
grown,  and  learn  how  for  several  years  the  people 
have  been  besieging  the  throne  of  grace  with 
prayer  that  he  would  send  them  help  they  cannot 
obtain  from  man,  they  see  clearly  the  hand  of  the 
Lord  in  all  that  has  befallen  them.  In  answer  to 
the  prayers  of  the  earnest,  simple  people  in  Anti- 
gua, he  has  commissioned  the  fierce  storm  and 
tempest  to  assail  them  on  their  way,  and  thus  ren- 
dered it  impracticable  for  them  to  reach  the  country 
to  which  they  were  bound.  While  their  lives  have 
been  precious  in  his  sight,  and  he  has  preserved 
them  in  the  manifold  perils  of  their  protracted 
voyage,  he  has  driven  them  away  from  their  in- 
tended course  and  brought  them,  by  a  way  they 
knew  not,  and  by  a  path  they  have  not  known, 
to  the  very  island  and  into  the  very  port  where 
there  is  a  people  prepared  of  the  Lord,  and  hun- 
gering for  that  bread  of  life  which  they  can  break 
unto  them.  Their  own  purposes  and  wishes  have 
been  overruled  and  baffled,  and  they  have  been 
guided  through  the  darkness  and  the  danger  by  a 
wisdom  superior  to  their  own. 

The  idea  of  proceeding  to  Nova  Scotia  is  at 
once  abandoned  by  the  missionaries.  Here  is  a 
field  open  to  them,  and  it  is  surely  the  hand  of  the 
Lord  that  has  guided   their  course  hither.     The 


Prayer  Answered.  35 

cloud  of  Divine  Providence  has  so  manifestly  led 
the  way,  that  they  at  once  resolve  to  accept  and 
enter  upon  the  work  which  lies  before  them. 
Apart  from  the  white  population  there  are  in  the 
several  islands  that  pertain  to  the  British  crown  at 
least  a  million  in  whose  veins  flows  the  blood  of 
Africa,  from  the  fair  Mestafina,  only  one  sixteenth 
black,  or  the  olive  Quadroon,  to  the  jetty,  full- 
blooded  Negroes,  stolen  by  thousands  from  their 
own  sunburnt  shores  to  till  the  lands  of  the  stran- 
ger. And  for  the  souls  of  all  these  multitudes  no 
man  cares.  Classed  with  the  unintelligent  brute, 
they  are  by  their  owners,  and  by  those  to  whom 
their  owners  look  as  religious  instructors,  shut  out, 
so  far  as  man  can  do  it,  from  the  blessings  of  re- 
demption, and  left,  without  an  effort  to  save  them, 
to  perish  in  their  sins.  Here  is  the  work  to 
which  the  Lord  has  called  them.  The  results  of 
Mr.  Gilbert's  and  Mr.  Baxter's  labors  have  dem- 
onstrated, not  only  that  the  black  man  has  a 
soul  that  is  capable  of  being  saved  equally  with 
that  of  the  man  of  fairer  hue,  but  that  he  is  also 
capable  of  exhibiting  in  his  life  and  conversation 
all  the  heavenly  dispositions,  and  all  the  exalted 
graces  and  beauties  of  Christian  holiness.  Here, 
therefore,  it  is  resolved  that  they  shall  stay,  and 
toil  in  the  field  which  God  has  Opened  to  them 
ready  for  a  glorious  harvest. 

By  this  opportune  arrival  of  the  missionaries 
not  only  is  Antigua  supplied  with  the  pastoral 
help  it  needed  so  much,  but  provision  is  made  for 
the  extension  of  the  work   to  other  parts  of  the 


2,6  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

West  Indies.  St.  Vincent,  Dominica,  St.  Eustatius, 
St.  Kitt's,  Jamaica,  soon  receive  the  Gospel, 
carried  thither  by  Wesleyan  missionaries  ;  and  ul- 
timately this  work  of  God  extends  over  all  the 
islands  under  the  British  crown.  Other  mission- 
aries are  sent  out  as  the  spreading  work  demands 
their  services.  Mr.  Baxter  sees  it  his  duty  to 
give  up  the  lucrative  situation  held  by  him  in  the 
dock-yard,  and  devote  himself  to  the  full  mission- 
ary work.  And  many  souls,  rescued  from  dark- 
ness and  sin,  pass  away  to  the  skies,  to  swell  the 
great  multitude  before  the  throne  gathered  out. 
of  every  nation  and  people  and  kindred  and 
tongue. 

"  See  how  great  a  flame  aspires, 
Kindled  by  a  spark  of  grace  !  " 

How  little  did  Mr.  Gilbert  dream,  when  he  first 
stood  up  with  fear  and  trembling  to  speak  to  a  few 
of  his  own  family  and  dependents  about  the  com- 
mon salvation,  of  the  extent  to  which  the  work  he 
was  commencing  would  grow.  Little  did  he  sup- 
pose that  he  was  laying  the  foundation  of  a  mission 
destined  to  prosper  until  Churches  should  be 
planted  in  all  the  islands  of  the  Caribbean  Sea, 
and  tens  of  thousand  of  souls,  recovered  by  the 
instrumentality  of  the  preached  word,  should  be 
made  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in 
light.  And  far,  very  far,  was  it  from  his  thoughts, 
that  in  introducing  to  the  Western  Archipelago 
the  Gospel  as  known  and  preached  by  the  Meth- 
odists, he  was  lighting  up  a  flame  that  would  ulti- 


Prayer  Answered.  37 

mately  melt  the  chains  of  the  slave,  thus  wiping 
ofif  the  foulest  blot  that  ever  stained  the  escutcheon 
of  Christian  Britain.  Yet  so  it  was.  Mr.  Gilbert, 
the  planter  and  slaveholder,  was  God's  chosen  in- 
strument to  initiate  a  work  of  grace  and  salvation 
that  has  brought  peace  and  joy  and  hope  into 
thousands  of  families,  saved  a  multitude  of  souls, 
and  proclaimed  liberty  to  those  who,  held  in 
slavery  under  the  British  flag,  were  groaning  under 
the  lash  and  plundered  of  all  that  is  dear  to  man. 

For  more  than  a  century  the  work  of  God 
through  Methodist  agency  has  now  been  going  on 
in  the  western  isles  of  the  sea,  unchecked  by  op- 
pressive and  persecuting  laws,  or  by  the  frequent 
imprisonment  of  missionaries,  or  the  brutal  violence 
of  mobs ;  and  numerous  Churches  have  grown  up, 
against  which  the  gates  of  hell  have  not  prevailed. 
The  Wesleyan  Mission  has  had  its  martyrs  too,  who 
have  died  under  the  whip  or  through  cruel  impris- 
onment, and  it  has  rejoiced  in  examples  of  Chris- 
tian heroism  and  devotedness  to  God  worthy  of 
apostolic  times.  May  the  word  of  the  Lord  have 
free  course  and  be  glorified  until  all  the  isles  of 
the  sea  and  all  the  continents  of  the  earth  shall 
hear  the  life-giving  sound,  and  the  world  be  full  of 
the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  as  the  waters  cover  the 
sea! 


38  Romance  Without  Fiction. 


II. 

"  The  Famine  of  the  Word. 

Sad  are  the  sorrows  that  oftentimes  come, 

Heavy  and  dull,  and  blighting-  and  chill, 
Shutting  the  light  from  our  heart  and  our  home. 

Marring  our  hopes  and  defying  our  will. 
But  let  us  not  sink  beneath  the  woe — 

'Tis  well,  i^erchance,  we  are  tried  and  bowed  ; 
For  be  sure  though  we  may  not  oft  see  it  below, 

"  There's  a  silvery  lining  to  every  cloud." — ^Eliza  Cook. 

tHE  eye  that  surveys  Jamaica  from  the  sea 
rests  upon  a  scene  of  surpassing  grandeur. 
Clothed  with  perennial  verdure,  the  range  of 
mountains  extending  from  east  to  west  forms  the 
great  backbone  of  the  island.  Sloping  gradually  to 
the  sea  on  either  side,  they  tower  to  the  clouds,  in 
which  their  summits  are  frequently  shrouded ; 
while  at  other  times  their  perfect  outline,  strongly 
marked  against  the  clear,  cloudless  azure  of  a 
tropical  sky,  and  seen  through  a  calm,  pellucid 
atmosphere,  from  a  distance  of  forty  or  fifty  miles, 
exhibits  that  beautiful,  soft,  dark-blue  appearance 
which  secured  for  them  the  designation  of  "the 
Blue  Mountains."  From  the  vast  reservoirs 
which  these  majestic  mountains  embosom  flow 
innumerable  streams,  often  seen  winding,  like  a 
silver  thread,  through  the  deep  ravines,  until  their 
waters  unite  in  a  river  of  considerable  magnitude, 
imparting  unbounded  fertility  to  the  soil,  and  pro- 


The  Famine  of  the   Word.  39 

ducing  a  luxuriance  of  vegetable  life  of  which  the 
denizens  of  more  temperate  zones  can  scarcely 
form  an  adequate  conception.  And  it  is  always 
so.  In  these  regions,  where  the  icy  gi.i?-:  of  win- 
ter is  unknown  and  the  evergreen  cocoa-nut  and 
cabbage-palms  exhibit  their  lofty  plumes  in  un- 
changing beauty,  and  the  paroquet  and  tiny  hum- 
ming-bird flit  about,  where  little  change  of  tem- 
perature is  experienced  from  January  to  De- 
cember, we  find  the  type  of  that  better  land — that 
uncorrupted  paradise — 

"  Where  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never-withering  flowers." 

There  stands  in  the  center  of  Kingston,  the  com- 
mercial capital  of  this  large  and  lovely  island,  a  com- 
modious place  of  worship,  with  a  missionaries'  resi- 
dence under  the  same  roof.  It  was  originally  the 
mansion  of  one  of  the  city  magnates.  Partly 
through  the  contributions  obtained  by  Dr.  Coke 
in  England  and  in  the  Island,  and  partly  out  of 
his  own  private  fortune,  wlaich  was  never  spared 
in  God's  cause,  this  convenient  locality,  with  the 
buildings  upon  it,  has  been  secured  for  the  mis- 
sion service,  and  adapted  to  the  twofold  purpose 
it  is  required  to  serve.  The  ground  floor  furnishes 
ample  accommodation  for  a  large  family,  with  an 
extensive  band-room  attached.  The  upper  part 
forms  a  commodious  chapel,  having  a  low  gallery 
running  partly  around  it.  When  completely  filled 
this  sanctuary  receives  fifteen  hundred  or  sixteen 
hundred    persons ;    while    the    band-room,    from 


40  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

which  a  broad  staircase  affords  access  to  the 
chapel  and  a  view  of  the  pulpit  and  the  preacher, 
will  allow  three  hundred  more  from  below  to  listen 
to  the  word  of  life. 

God  has  hallowed  this  spot  by  making  it  the 
birthplace  of  many  souls.  Through  his  blessing 
on  his  truth  nearly  six  hundred,  in  addition  to 
those  who  have  passed  away  to  join  the  assem- 
bly before  the  throne,  have  been  born  to  glory 
here,  and  now  form  a  flourishing  and  increasing 
Church.  Many  of  these  are  free  colored  and 
black  people,  formerly  sadly  debased  by  igno- 
rance and  vice.  But  not  a  few  are  slaves,  who, 
while  wearing  the  chains  of  an  earthly  owner,  and 
degraded  into  chattels,  have  been  brought,  through 
the  mighty  energy  of  the  Gospel,  into  spiritual 
liberty  and  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  children 
and  heirs  of  God.  The  blessed  work  still  goes 
on,  and  souls,  made  wise  unto  salvation  through 
faith  in  the  crucified  One,  are  being  continually 
added  to  the  Church, 

When  God  works  in  saving  men  Satan  rages, 
and  his  agents  also  become  active  to  hinder  or 
destroy  the  truth.  Attempts  have  already  been 
made  by  the  legislative  authorities,  who  are  all 
slaveholders,  to  place  insuperable  barriers  in  the 
way  of  the  instruction  of  the  negroes  and  harass 
their  teachers,  and,  if  possible,  drive  them  from 
the  land.  But  the  vigilance  of  Dr.  Coke  and  the 
tolerant  spirit  prevailing  in  his  Majesty's  councils 
have  hitherto  rendered  these  efforts  abortive,  or 
prevented  them  from  producing  more  than  tem- 


TJie  Famine  of  the  Word.  41 

porary  embarrassment  and  injury,  inasmuch  as  the 
intolerant  enactments  of  the  local  Legislature  have 
been  uniformly  disallowed  by  the  home  Govern- 
ment. 

But  during  the  time  these  persecuting  laws  were 
suffered  to  come  into  operation,  pending  the  de- 
cision of  the  Imperial  Government  concerning 
them,  several  missionaries  have  experienced  the 
rigors  of  a  Jamaica  jail,  and  some  of  them,  with 
health  broken  by  persecution,  or  to  avoid  the 
penalty  of  perpetual  imprisonment  incurred  by 
preaching  to  congregations  comprising  slaves, 
have  been  compelled  to  depart  from  the  colony. 
Mob  violence  has  also  done  its  evil  work.  But 
that  has  been  considerably  checked  by  a  startling 
event,  which,  for  a  season,  made  a  powerful  im- 
pression on  many  thoughtless  minds.  A  fierce 
opposer  of  the  missionaries,  named  Taylor,  noto- 
rious for  his  profaneness  and  profligate  habits, 
made  several  unsuccessful  attempts  to  break  up 
the  congregation  and  injure  the  preacher.  At 
this  time,  the  chapel  not  having  as  yet  been  ob- 
tained, the  people  were  accustomed  to  assemble  in 
a  private  house  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city,  which 
could  contain  only  a  small  portion  of  those  who 
flocked  to  hear  the  truth.  Many,  therefore,  were 
compelled  to  sit  or  stand  both  in  the  front  and  at 
the  back  of  the  premises.  The  persecutor  having 
one  evening,  with  his  vicious  companions,  been 
foiled  in  the  attempt  to  break  up  the  meeting  and 
hinder  the  service  from  going  on,  took  his  depart- 
ure, givmg  utterance  to  a  profane  oath  that  he 


42  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

would  come  next  Monday  with  his  companions  on 
horseback  and  "  gallop  over  the  crowd  till  he  had 
trampled  the  accursed  Methodists  down  to  hell." 
But  God  was  beforehand  with  the  blasphemer. 
At  the  very  same  hour  the  following  Monday, 
when  the  people,  many  of  them  with  great  fear 
and  trembling,  were  gathering,  as  usual,  to  wor- 
ship God,  the  corpse  of  the  persecutor,  followed 
by  many  of  the  abettors  of  his  wickedness,  was 
borne  to  the  church-yard  for  interment.  God  had 
smitten  him  down  with  fever.  For  some  years 
after  this  a  salutary  dread  of  the  Almighty  arm, 
which  had  been  so  impressively  uplifted,  modified 
the  rage  of  the  persecutors. 

But  the  work  is  growing,  and  it  must  be  stopped ; 
for,  say  some,  "  People  cannot  pass  through  the 
streets  of  the  city  without  being  annoyed  by  sing- 
ing and  prayer."  "These  Methodists  are  at  it  all 
night;  the  orderly  inhabitants  cannot  rest  in  their 
beds  without  being  disturbed."  "  It  must  be  put 
an  end  to."  How  to  accomplish  this  is  the  ques- 
tion. Mob  violence  will  not  do  :  that  has  been 
tried,  and  it  only  makes  the  matter  worse ;  for  the 
more  the  Methodists  are  opposed  in  this  way  the 
more  they  seem  to  increase.  And,  through  the 
representations  of  parties  in  England,  the  home 
Government  disallow  every  bill  passed  by  the  local 
Legislature  to  prevent  "this  preaching  and  psalm- 
singing  and  teaching  religion  to  slaves."  "What 
can  be  done  ?  "  "  How  shall  we  silence  or  get 
rid  of  these  troublesome  Methodists,  or  keep  our 
slaves  away  from  them  .''  " 


The  Famine  of  the  Word.  43 

There  is  great  perplexity  among  the  religion- 
hating  clique.  At  length  a  bright  and  lucky 
thought  suggests  itself  to  the  mind  of  one  of  the 
persecutors.  "The  Common  Council  can  do  it." 
True,  the  corporation  cannot  stop  the  preaching 
in  the  country  parishes,  for  their  authority  is  lim- 
ited to  the  city,  and  the  Government  in  London 
are  sure  to  reject  and  neutralize  any  law  of  the 
island  containing  clauses  to  that  effect.  But  the 
missionaries  can  be  silenced  in  the  city,  which  is 
the  head-quarters  of  the  fraternity.  With  this  new 
light  upon  the  subject  there  is  soon  to  be  ob- 
served great  activity  among  the  enemies  of  the 
truth ;  frequent  meetings  are  held,  and  rumors 
begin  to  circulate  that  evil  is  impending  over  the 
Methodists.  The  Common  Council  possess  au- 
thority from  their  charter  to  frame  such  ordi- 
nances as  they  may  see  fit  for  the  maintenance  of 
order  and  good  government  within  the  city,  and 
that  authority  (whether  legitimately  or  otherwise 
it  matters  little)  may  be  made  to  cover  such 
measures  as  are  necessary  to  put  an  end  to  "  this 
nuisance  of  praying  and  preaching." 

At  the  next  meeting  of  the  City  Council  there 
is  a  large  gathering  of  the  members.  Lawyers 
have  left  their  offices  and  merchants  have  de- 
serted their  counting-houses  to  be  present,  for 
the  purpose  to  be  accomplished  is  felt  to  be  one 
of  great  interest  and  importance.  The  mission- 
aries have  heard  something  of  the  conspiracy 
formed  to  deprive  them  and  their  people  of  relig- 
ious rights,  and  they  also  are  alert  to  meet  the 


44  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

crisis.  But  it  is  in  vain  they  present  themselves 
with  a  petition,  and  request  to  be  heard  against 
the  passing  of  the  contemplated  ordinance.  In 
vain  they  endeavor  to  secure  such  a  modification 
of  its  worst  provisions  as  will  leave  the  people, 
who  love  the  truth,  some  small  remnant  of  liberty 
to  worship  God  and  hear  his  word.  A  few  of  the 
members  of  the  Board  are  somewhat  dubious  con- 
cerning their  right  to  enact  such  a  law;  but  only 
one  gentleman  has  courage  openly  to  resist  the 
meditated  oppression.  He  unhesitatingly  ex- 
presses it  as  his  opinion  that  "  not  only  is  it 
wrong  thus  to  trample  upon  the  consciences  and 
restrict  the  religious  liberties  of  the  Methodist 
people,  but  the  corporation  possesses  no  legal  au- 
thority for  taking  such  a  course."  Intolerance 
and  wickedness  are,  however,  permitted  for  a  sea- 
son to  triumph.  Yet  there  is  a  boundless  Wisdom 
at  work  in  these  things,  accomplishing  its  own 
purposes,  and  bringing  much  good  out  of  the  ap- 
parent evil. 

The  ordinance  is  passed  by  an  overwhelming 
majority,  and  there  is  in  it  much  of  the  subtlety 
of  the  old  serpent.  No  religious  service  of  any 
kind  is  permitted  to  be  held  in  the  city  after  sun- 
set, or  before  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  under 
penalty  of  p^ioo  for  each  offense,  or  three  months' 
imprisonment  in  the  common  jail,  the  occupier 
of  the  premises  used  for  such  service  being  also 
liable  to  the  same  penalty.  And  at  other  times 
no  person  is  to  "  presume  to  teach  or  preach,  or 
expound  the  Holy  Scriptures,  or  offer  up  public 


The  Famine  of  the  Word.  45 

prayer,  or  sing  psalms  in  any  meeting  or  assembly 
of  negroes  or  persons  of  color,  not  being  duly  au- 
thorized, qualified,  or  permitted;"  the  city  magis- 
trates, who  passed  the  ordinance,  reserving  to 
themselves  the  sole  right  of  judging  concerning 
such  qualification,  and  of  giving  or  withholding 
the  required  authority  or  permission. 

The  effect  of  this  ordinance,  which  comes  into 
immediate  operation,  is  at  once  to  cut  off  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  unfortunate  slaves  from  receiving 
any  instruction  whatever ;  for  there  can  be  no  re- 
ligious service  held,  except  on  the  Sabbath,  be- 
tween sunrise  and  sunset ;  and  the  Sabbath  is  not 
.theirs,  nor  a  single  hour  of  it,  apart  from  the  will 
of  their  owners.  No  law  recognizes  their  right,  or 
gives  them  opportunity,  to  keep  holy  the  Sabbath 
day.  They  are  absolutely  under  the  control  of 
their  owners,  and  have  no  right  except  to  labor, 
suffer,  and  die.  The  free  colored  and  black  peo- 
ple can  assemble  and  join  in  the  public  worship 
of  God,  and  hear  words  whereby  they  may  be 
saved  ;  for  as  yet  the  attempt  may  not  be  pru- 
dently and  safely  made  to  deprive  them  of  the 
Methodist  services  altogether.  There  are  some 
among  the  city  magistrates  who  do  not  heartily 
approve  of  the  persecuting  ordinance,  and  one 
who  is  strongly  opposed  to  it.  It  will  not,  there- 
fore, be  good  policy  to  push  matters  to  an  ex- 
tremity too  suddenly,  lest  inconvenient  opposition 
should  be  aroused  in  their  own  body.  But  the 
purpose  of  the  persecutors  is  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
Methodist  preaching  and  praying  entirely ;    and 


46  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

assuredly  it  must  be  done.  It  is  only  a  question 
of  time,  and  the  desired  opportunity  at  length 
presents  itself. 

It  is  a  day  of  gladness  at  the  Coke  Chapel  Mis- 
sion house.  The  hearts  of  the  harassed  mission- 
aries, already  in  the  field,  have  been  cheered  by 
the  arrival  of  a  fresh  band  of  laborers  from  Eu- 
rope, consisting  of  three  missionaries  and  the  wife 
of  one  of  the  number,  after  a  long  and  tempestu- 
ous passage  across  the  Atlantic.  Such  an  event 
is  always  a  gladsome  one  to  the  toil-worn  ministers 
of  the  cross  in  a  far-oif  land,  especially  when,  as 
here,  they  have  to  prosecute  their  labors  in  the 
midst  of  great  difficulties,  and  in  the  face  of  re- 
proach and  persecution.  It  is  the  evening  of  the 
day  on  which  the  new  comers  have  landed,  glad 
to  be  released  from  a  tedious  and  uncomfortable 
confinement  in  the  ship.  They  and  the  brethren 
who  have  welcomed  them  to  the  slave-land  form  a 
pleasant  party.  But  little  does  it  enter  into  the 
anticipations  of  any  one  among  them  that,  within 
the  lapse  of  a  week,  having  only  preached  one 
sermon  to  the  people  among  whom  he  hopes  to 
prosecute  a  long  and  useful  course  of  hallowed  toil, 
that  young  missionary,  whose  countenance  glows 
with  the  bloom  of  lusty  health,  and  whose  limbs 
are  nerved  with  the  vigor  of  youthful  manhood, 
will,  together  with  his  young  and  lovely  wife,  be 
sleeping  in  the  grave.  Yet  so  it  is  to  be.  In  the 
inscrutable  arrangements  of  an  unerring  Provi- 
dence, both  of  them,  suddenly  swept  away  from 
their  labors,  and  from  life,  by  yellow  fever,  before 


The  Famine  of  the  Word.  47 

the  week  has  elapsed,  pass  away  in  the  same 
night,  and  enter  with  glorious  triumph  their  Fa- 
ther's house  above. 

But  no  thought  of  this  enters  the  mind  of  any 
of  that  happy  group,  which  embraces  all  the  mis- 
sionaries in  the  island.  And  it  is  well  that  a  thick 
and  impenetrable  vail  does  conceal  the  future  from 
our  view,  or  how  much  more  frequently  would  the 
enjoyments  of  life  be  marred  ! 

The  young  missionary  and  his  wife  who  are  so 
soon  to  join  the  upper  choir  are  found  to  possess 
voices  of  more  than  ordinary  sweetness  and  power, 
and  are  .well  skilled  in  the  beautiful  melodies  pop- 
ular in  the  Methodist  churches  in  England.  It  is 
with  these  delightful  remembrances  of  home  that 
the  party  is  occupied,  voices  and  spirits  blending 
in  sweetest  harmony,  and  attracting  many  outside 
to  listen  to  the  pleasing  sound.  The  evening 
speeds  on,  and  they 

"  Forget 
All  time,  and  toil,  and  care." 

Not  one  of  them  observes  that  the  dial  indicates  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  passed  beyond  those  limits 
within  which  it  is  the  will  and  pleasure  of  the 
Common  Council  that  psalms  and  hymns  may  be 
sung  or  prayer  offered  in  the  district  under  their 
control.  They  are  suddenly  and  disagreeably  re- 
minded of  the  fact  by  the  unceremonious  intrusion 
of  a  police  officer,  accompanied  by  one  of  the  city 
magistrates,  and  a  party  of  the  town  guard.  By 
these  rude  and  unwelcome  visitors  Messrs.  Gil- 
grass  and  Knowlan,  the  resident  missionaries,  are 


48  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

taken  into  custody  and  marched  off  at  once  to  the 
cage.  On  the  next  day  the  younger  of  the  two  is 
released,  but  Mr,  Gilgrass,  as  the  occupier  of  the 
Mission  house,  being  held  guilty  of  violating  the 
city  ordinance,  is  sentenced  to  expiate  the  crime 
of  singing  Methodist  hymns  by  a  month's  impris- 
onment in  the  city  jail.  The  excellent  wife  of  the 
culprit  is  permitted,  as  an  act  of  special  grace  on 
the  part  of  the  civic  dignitaries,  to  share  her  hus- 
band's punishment. 

At  the  end  of  the  specified  time  the  persecuted 
missionary  comes  forth  from  his  prison  cell  to  find 
that  another  and  a  heavier  blow  has  been  struck 
at  the  cause  of  truth  by  the  heartless  oppressors 
of  the  slave.  Three  years  have  elapsed  since  the 
last  intolerant  law  enacted  by  the  island  legislative 
authorities  ceased  to  operate,  in  consequence  of 
its  disallowance  by  the  sovereign  in  council,  and 
now  another  attempt  is  made  to  prevent  mission- 
ary instruction  being  given  to  the  slaves.  In  hope 
of  being  able  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  friends 
of  missions  in  England,  the  Legislature,  sanctioned 
in  their  oppressive  policy  by  Sir  Eyre  Coote,  the 
governor,  (such  men  deserve  all  the  immortality 
which  the  press  can  give  to  their  evil  works,)  have 
embodied  in  an  act  entitled  "  The  Consolidated 
Slave  Law,"  several  clauses  intended  to  shut  up 
the  negro  in  hopeless  ignorance,  by  preventing 
the  Christian  missionary  from  approaching  him 
with  the  word  of  life.  This  wicked  law  subjects 
"  every  Methodist  missionary,  or  other  sectary  or 
preacher,"    who    shall    presume    to    instruct    the 


The  Famine  of  the  Word.  49 

slaves,  or  receive  them  into  their  "  houses,  chap- 
els, or  conventicles,  of  any  sort  or  description,"  to 
a  fine  of  "  twenty  pounds  for  every  slave  found  to 
have  been  there,"  or  "  perpetual  imprisonment 
'until  such  fines  are  paid." 

Such  a  persecuting  enactment  is  not  more  likely 
to  receive  the  approval  of  the  king  in  council  than 
others  of  a  similar  character  which  have  preceded 
it,  and  have  been  disallowed,  if  its  true  character 
and  tendency  become  known.  It  is  not  likely  to 
escape  the  observation  of  the  watchful  friends  of 
the  slave,  that  this  act  is  intended  to  impart  greater 
intensity  to  the  oppression  that  crushes  him  down, 
and  the  designs  of  its  originators  will  be  bafiied. 
But  their  evil  purposes  will  be  so  far  accomplished 
that  the  act  will  come  into  operation  for  some 
time,  pending  the  decision  of  the  home  Govern- 
ment concerning  it.  Thus  an  opportunity  and 
pretext  will  be  given  for  working  great  annoyance 
and  injury  to  the  missionaries  and  their  flocks 
during  many  months  that  must  elapse  before  the 
fate  of  the  bill  can  be  officially  made  known. 
The  result  soon  becomes  apparent.  It  is  not  pos- 
sible to  keep  the  negroes  out  of  the  chapels  when 
they  are  opened  for  public  service,  and  to  avoid 
the  penalty  of  perpetual  imprisonment — since  it  is 
not  practicable  for  them  to  pay  the  fines  imposed 
by  the  new  law — the  missionaries  are  compelled 
for  the  present  to  desist  from  their  public  labors. 
Excepting  that  in  the  city,  all  the  chapels  in  the 
islands  are  closed,  and  cease  to  echo  the  voice 
of  prayer  and  praise,   and    the   proclamation   of 


50  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

mercy  and  salvation  to  the  peeled  and  plundered 
slaves. 

Coke  Chapel  still  resounds  with  the  delightful 
exercise  of  Christian  worship.  This  privilege, 
however,  is  secured  to  some  of  the  free  popula- 
tion only  by  the  harsh  precaution  of  placing  per- 
sons at  each  door  of  the  building  to  prevent  the 
entrance  of  any  unfortunate  slave.  It  is  often 
touching  and  heartrending  in  the  extreme  to  hear 
the  pleadings  and  remonstrances  of  these  deeply- 
wronged  children  of  Africa,  thus  driven  from  the 
footstool  of  God.  They  can  scarcely  be  made  to 
understand  the  cruel  necessity  that  exists  of  ex- 
cluding them  from  the  holy  place  without  such 
explanations  being  entered  into  as  would  lay  open 
the  person  giving  them  to  the  capital  charge  of 
constructive  treason.  It  is  a  capital  crime  to  ren- 
der slaves  dissatisfied  with  their  condition  or  with 
the  law.  But  thus  it  must  be  until  the  dawning  of 
better  times,  or  the  sanctuary  must  be  altogether 
closed.  Nor  is  it  long  before  this  further  great 
wrong  is  also  perpetrated,  and  the  voice  of  the 
preacher  is  hushed,  and  there  is  silence  in  the 
house  of  "the  Lord. 

The  enemies  of  religion  in  the  city  have  merely 
waited  for  the  opportunity  of  conveniently  accom- 
plishing their  evil  purposes,  and  now  the  time  has 
arrived.  A  few  weeks  only  have  elapsed  since  the 
infamous  "  consolidated  slave  law  "  came  into 
operation,  shutting  up  all  the  chapels  in  the  rural 
districts,  when  the  missionaries  in  Kingston  are 
summoned  before  their  old  adversaries  of  the  Com- 


The  Famine  of  the   Word.  5  ^ 

mon  Council,  to  show  their  qualification  and  author- 
ity for  preaching  in  the  city.  Exhibiting  certifi- 
cates which  show  that  they  have  taken  the  oaths 
and  subscribed  the  declarations  required  by  the 
toleration  laws  of  England,  they  claim  to  be  duly 
qualified ;  but  are  met  with  the  inquiry,  "  What 
are  the  laws  of  England  to  us  ?  "  They  are  then 
informed  that  they  will  be  allowed  to  preach  no 
more,  under  the  heavy  penalties  specified  in  the 
city  ordinance,  until  they  are  duly  licensed  by 
the  magistrates  of  the  city. 

A  respectful  application  is  then  and  there  made 
to  the  bench  for  such  a  license  as  the  magistrates 
consider  to  be  necessary ;  which  calls  forth  the 
peremptory  response,  "  Indeed,  you  will  not  get 
one."  Thus,  by  a  godless,  persecuting  oligarchy, 
are  ministers  and  people  deprived  of  their  religious 
rights  as  British  subjects ;  and  the  public  worship 
of  the  Almighty  is  held  to  be  a  crime,  and  treated 
as  such. 

At  the  court  of  quarter  sessions,  held  during  the 
following  month,  a  similar  application  is  made. 
But  care  has  been  taken  that  the  bench  shall  be 
occupied  only,  or  chiefly,  by  those  who  belong  to 
the  faction  opposed  to  religion  and  religious  teach- 
ing. To  the  sorrow  of  hundreds,  the  missionaries 
are  scornfully  driven  from  the  court,  menaced 
with  a  most  rigid  enforcement  of  the  penalties 
imposed  by  the  persecuting  ordinance,  if  they 
dare,  in  any  way,  to  violate  its  provisions  by  preach- 
ing, praying,  or  singing  among  the  people. 

For  a  season,  Satan  has  triumphed.    Intolerance 


52  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  oppression  are  rampant  throughout  the  land, 
and  the  enemies  of  the  Gospel  are  every-where 
jubilant.  There  is  sorrow  in  the  habitations  of 
the  just;  and  a  dense  gloom  has  darkened  the 
prospects  of  many  a  poor  negro,  who  has  been  per- 
mitted to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  distant  immor- 
tality beyond  this  vail  of  suffering  and  woe,  only, 
as  it  now  appears,  that  it  may  be  lost  to  him  for- 
ever. From  Manchioneal  in  the  east,  to  Negril 
in  the  west,  no  Christian  sanctuary  now  opens  its 
portals  where  the  poor  slave  can  hear  of  Jesus 
and  the  cross,  the  pardon  of  sin,  and  the  bright  and 
better  land  where  there  is  no  curse,  and  the  weary 
are  at  rest,  and  God  himself  doth  wipe  away  the 
tears  from  all  eyes.  True,  there  are  men  in  the 
land  called  rectors  of  parishes  ;  but  troops  of  ille- 
gitimate mulatto  children  deriving  their  paternity 
from  them,  and  their  own  mangled  and  murdered 
slaves,  proclaim,  in  too  many  instances,  that  these 
are  no  ministers  of  Christ's  pure  Gospel ;  and  that 
for  the  injured,  disconsolate  negro  to  go  to 
them  for  instruction  or  comfort  would  be  like 
expecting  to  find  grapes  on  thorns,  or  figs  on 
thistles. 

There  are  buildings  called  parish  churches  that 
might  possibly  contain  one  in  five  hundred  of  the 
population  of  the  parish.  But  it  is  no  uncommon 
thing  for  these  to  remain  closed,  without  minister 
or  congregation,  for  months  together.  Slight,  in- 
deed, is  the  loss  sustained  when  it  is  so  ;  for,  at 
best,  the  light  in  these  sanctuaries  is  scarcely 
enough  to   make   the  darkness  visible.     Nor  do 


The  Famine  of  the   Word.  53 

these  ministers  even  consider  that  any  beyond  the 
thinly-scattered  whites  of  the  population  form  a 
portion  of  the  charge  with  which  they  are  con- 
cerned. All  the  hopes  of  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  Africa,  whether  bond  or  free,  so  far  as  religious 
instruction  and  the  joys  and  blessings  of  religion 
are  concerned,  center  in  the  missionary.  Now,  alas ! 
he  is  silent ;  and  it  is  a  dubious  question  whether 
the  existing  generation  will  ever  be  permitted  again 
to  hear,  in  public,  the  voice  of  the  Lord's  servant, 
pointing  the  weary,  sin-burdened  soul  to  the  aton- 
ing Lamb  of  God. 

The  months  roll  on,  and  repeated  efforts  have 
been  made  to  remove  the  restrictions  laid  upon 
the  worship  of  God  in  the  city,  and  afford  the  peo- 
ple the  opportunity,  so  ardently  desired  by  them, 
of  hearing  again  the  preaching  of  God's  saving 
truth.  The  governor  has  been  appealed  to.  But 
the  man  who  could  put  his  signature  to  the  "  con- 
solidated slave  law,  and  so  pervert  the  power  un- 
worthily vested  in  him  as  the  representative  of  the 
crown  as  to  sanction  and  aid  the  wicked  purposes 
of  a  persecuting  slave  oppressing  faction,  could 
have  no  disposition,  even  if  he  possessed  the 
power,  to  interpose  between  the  injured  mission- 
aries with  their  flocks  and  the  municipal  authori- 
ties. From  him  no  help  can  be  obtained.  It  is  a 
case  in  which  he  has  no  authority,  the  city  magis- 
trates not  being  subject  to  his  control.  They  do 
not,  like  the  general  magistracy  of  the  island,  re- 
ceive their  commissions  from  the  crown,  but  from 
popular  election.     At  several  successive  quarter- 


54  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

sessions  the  missionaries  apply  for  licenses,  such 
as  the  Common  Council  may  consider  sufficient  to 
warrant  them  in  the  exercise  of  their  ministry  in 
the  city ;  but  with  no  result,  except  a  stern,  in- 
dignant refusal. 

A  year  and  a  half  has  passed  away  since  the 
voice  of  any  missionary  has  been  heard  in  pub- 
lic within  these  shores.  In  the  rural  districts, 
the  societies  that  had  been  gathered,  with  many 
prayers  and  tears,  have  been  scattered.  They 
consisted  largely  of  slaves,  and  it  has  been  im- 
possible to  hold  among  them  religious  services  of 
any  kind.  The  deserted  sanctuaries  in  which 
they  loved  to  hear  of  the  things  of  God,  and  where 
they  had  often  experienced  the  elevating,  hallowing 
influences  which  threw  athwart  the  dark  gloom 
of  their  condition  bright  gleams  of  hope,  and  the 
only  rays  of  comfort  whereof  their  sad  and  wretched 
state  was  susceptible,  now  stand  in  silence  and 
solitude;  serving  but  to  remind  them,  when  pass- 
ing by,  of  their  own  utter  desolation,  and  tempting 
them  to  believe  that  they  are  not  only  foully 
wronged  by  man,  but  abandoned  of  God.  They 
no  longer  even  look  upon  their  teachers,  for  the 
silenced  ministers,  unable  to  gain  any  access  to 
their  people,  have  departed  to  other  scenes  of 
toil. 

In  the  city  it  is  somewhat  different.  The  sanct- 
uary is  closed,  the  pulpit  vacant,  and  the  mission- 
ary's voice  no  longer  heard  in  public  devotion. 
But  two  of  these  servants  of  Christ  remain  at  the 
post  of  duty  assigned  to  them,  until  one  is  com- 


The  Famine  of  the   Word.  55 

pelled  through  sickness  to  take  his  departure. 
They  cannot  preach  or  pray,  or  even  sing  a  hymn, 
openly ;  but  they  can  visit  from  house  to  house, 
among  those  who  are  not  in  bondage,  and  converse 
with  them  on  the  things  of  God.  Now  and  then 
they  can  minister  a  word  of  comfort  and  encour- 
agement to  the  down-cast  slave  as  he  crosses 
their  path  ;  and  occasionally,  when  no  malignant 
eye  is  upon  them,  they  can  kneel  in  secret  prayer 
with  their  sorrow-stricken  charge.  Best  of  all,  the 
Lord  is  working  with  them ;  and  they  are  not 
without  many  delightful  proofs  of  his  almighty 
power  to  save. 

But  the  persecuting  "  consolidated  slave  bill !  " 
What  has  become  of  that.?  Measures  have  been 
taken  in  England,  by  the  friends  of  missions,  to 
expose  the  hypocrisy  of  its  pretensions,  and  make 
known  its  real  character  and  tendency  to  the 
members  of  the  privy  council ;  and  his  majesty  has 
been  petitioned  to  disallow  it,  and  give  to  the 
thousands  of  his  slave-subjects  in  Jamaica  the 
right  to  hear  of  and  to  worship  God.  But  more 
than  a  year  has  elapsed,  and  no  official  intelligence 
has  been  communicated  to  the  Government  of  the 
enactment  of  such  a  law.  When  inquiry  is  made, 
it  transpires  that  the  time-serving  governor  of 
Jamaica,  Sir  Eyre  Coote,  expecting  that  the  un- 
righteous enactment  will  certainly  be  disallowed, 
has  so  far  pandered  to  the  evil  passions  and  pur- 
poses of  the  planters  as  designedly  to  keep  it  back, 
and  thus  allow  the  longest  possible  time  for  the 
enemies  of  slave  instruction  to  carry  its  oppressive 


56  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

clauses  into  effect,  and  break  up  and  scatter  the 
missionary  Churches.  This,  however,  can  be  doJie 
no  longer.  After  being  in  operation  more  than  a 
year  and  a  half,  it  is  at  last  duly  presented  to  the 
privy  council,  from  whom  it  receives  its  well- 
merited  fate.  The  gladsome  news  circulates 
through  the  land  that  his  majesty  in  council  has 
disallowed  the  vile  law,  and  it  is  no  longer  a 
crime,  punishable  with  a  heavy  penalty,  to  preach 
the  Gospel  to  slaves.  Much  injury  has  been  done 
by  the  scattering  of  these  poor  sheep;  but  many 
of  them  soon  gladly  assemble  together,  and  the 
people  go  up  again  with  joyful  hearts  to  worship 
Jehovah  in  his  temples. 

Unhappily,  the  disallowance  of  the  "  consoli- 
dated slave  law  "  brings  no  relief  to  the  missionary 
and  the  society  in  the  city.  The  intolerant  city 
ordinance  still  remains  in  force,  for  his  majesty  in 
council  cannot  disallow  that.  The  chapel  is  still 
closed,  and  many  hundreds  of  devout  people  are 
deprived  of  the  bread  of  life,  and  denied  the  right 
of  worshiping  their  Maker  in  the  public  ordinances 
of  religion.  Persecution  is  rife  and  triumphant ; 
and  so  closely  are  they  watched  by  malignant  foes, 
that  the  missionary  and  his  people  are  often  in- 
terrupted in  their  family  worship  by  volleys  of 
stones  hurled  against  the  jalousies  and  windows 
of  their  dwellings.  The  teachers  are  silent ;  but 
still  they  remain,  and  go  in  and  out  among  their 
flock,  conveying  to  many  hearts  in  private  the 
gladdening  truths  they  may  not  openly  publish. 
Meanwhile,  the  brethren  at  the  country  stations, 


The  Famine  of  the   Word.  57 

freed  from  the  restrictions  imposed  by  the  rejected 
law  for  a  season,  are  now  joyfully  and  successfully 
prosecuting  their  labors  among  the  slaves  of  the 
plantations.  The  persecutors  are  disappointed 
and  angry  ;  but  exulting  in  liberty,  and  grateful  to 
Him  who  has  curbed  the  wrath  of  their  enemies, 
the  missionaries,  having  resumed  their  labor  of 
love  in  the  rural  parishes  with  renewed  energy, 
preach  the  hopes  of  eternal  life  to  their  swarthy, 
suffering  charge,  and  thousands  of  negroes  are 
gladdened  with  the  prospect  of  final  deliverance 
within  the  vail  from  the  manifold  evils  of  their 
present  unhappy  lot. 

Many  hearts  in  the  city  yearn  for  like  blessings 
as  they  think  of  the  country  chapels  crowded  with 
earnest  worshipers,  listening  to  the  uplifted  voice 
of  the  Lord's  messengers,  and  drinking  in  words 
of  heavenly  instruction.  Again  and  again  the  at- 
tempt is  renewed  to  move  the  hearts  of  the  city 
magistrates,  and  obtain  the  removal  of  those  un- 
just and  painful  restrictions  under  which  the  peo- 
ple labor.  But  it  is  in  vain,  and  there  is  no  alter- 
native but  patient  submission,  until  the  Lord  shall 
interpose  in  answer  to  prayer,  and  break  the  bonds 
of  the  oppressor. 

"  The  famine  of  the  word,"  as  the  people  sig- 
nificantly describe  it,  is  painfully  felt ;  but  they 
are  not  without  delightful  and  encouraging  man- 
ifestations of  the  Lord's  presence  with  his  people 
in  their  affliction,  and  of  his  power  to  save.  There 
is  no  public  ministration  of  the  word  of  life,  no 
warning  of  sinners  from  the  pulpit  to  flee  from  the 


58  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

wrath  to  come.  But  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  can 
work,  and  accomplish  great  and  saving  results, 
apart  from  outward  means.  Persecution  can  si- 
lence the  voice  of  the  Lord's  servant ;  but  it  can- 
not enchain  the  Divine  Spirit,  or  place  limits  to 
his  gracious  operations.  It  is  a  remarkable  and' 
encouraging  fact,  which  forces  itself  upon  the  ob- 
servation even  of  the  enemies  of  the  truth,  that  the 
work  of  God  advances  more  rapidly,  and  spreads 
more  deeply  and  widely,  within  the  municipal 
boundaries  than  it  has  ever  done  before.  The 
efforts  put  forth  to  suppress  and  destroy  Method- 
ism have  only  imparted  to  it  greater  strergth  and 
influence. 

The  great  adversary  has  in  this  case,  as  often 
before,  outwitted  himself,  and  the  persecutors  have 
defeated  their  own  purpose.  This  virulent  persecu- 
tion of  the  unoffending  Methodists,  the  outrage  upon 
conscience  and  religious  liberty,  involved  in  shut- 
ting up  the  house  of  God  and  dragging  the  mission- 
ary to  a  loathsome  jail,  has  awakened  a  powerful 
sympathy  in  the  breasts  of  hundreds,  where  utter 
indifference  to  religion  and  its  professors  prevailed 
before  ;  and  multitudes  now  look  with  kindly  in- 
terest upon  the  people  who  are  tyrannically  denied 
the  right  to  sing  and  pray.  Thus  many  are  pre- 
disposed to  receive  gracious  impressions;  and  the 
consequence  is,  that  numerous  accessions  are 
made  to  the  society,  both  of  men  and  women, 
bond  and  free.  These,  gathered  into  the  Church 
in  times  of  trial  and  persecution,  are  known  through 
many  after  years  as  beautiful  patterns  of  Christian 


The  Famine  of  the   Word.  59 

holiness,  and  burning  flames  of  light  and  love. 
Some  of  the  finest  examples  of  Christian  devoted- 
ness  and  usefulness  the  writer  has  ever  known, 
were  among  those  who  were  gathered  into  the  so- 
ciety during  "  the  seven  years'  famine  of  the  word." 
Prohibited  from  preaching,  the  missionary  can 
visit  the  members  of  his  flock ;  and  every-where 
he  is  welcomed  as  an  angel  of  the  Lord.  Very 
often  the  opportunity  of  offering  a  short  prayer  is 
earnestly  improved  ;  and  many  a  brief  word  of 
admonition  or  affectionate  counsel,  dropped  by 
the  man  of  God  in  these  visits,  becomes  as  bread 
cast  upon  the  waters,  to  be  found  after  many  days. 

The  class-leaders  also,  men  and  women  of  deep 
and  rich  experience  in  the  things  of  God,  who 
have  been  chastened  by  years  of  persecution  and 
rebuke,  are  neither  idle  nor  unfruitful.  Some  of 
them  can  only  discharge  their  duties  by  periodical 
visitation  of  their  members  at  their  own  habita- 
tions;  but  this  is  done  with  an  earnest,  untiring 
assiduity,  that  shows  how  truly  their  hearts  are  in 
the  work.  And  they,  through  God's  blessing,  not 
only  keep  the  members  of  their  classes  from  yield- 
ing to  discouragement  and  falling  away,  but  are 
frequently  adding  fresh  names  to  their  class  lists, 
augmenting  the  candidates  for  eternal  life.  There 
is  not  a  street,  or  lane,  or  alley  in  the  city  where 
the  influence  of  this  work  of  God  is  not  felt. 

But  some  of  the  leaders  who  have  slave  mem- 
bers in  their  classes,  or  others  whom  it  is  imprac- 
ticable for  divers  reasons  to  visit  at  their  own 
homes,  have  recourse  to  various  means  of  evading 


6o  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  persecuting  ordinance,  and  escaping  also  the 
vigilant  eyes  of -their  foes.  There  is  one  whose 
employment  keeps  him  at  home  all  day  throughout 
the  week ;  but  on  Sunday  he  is  free  to  go  out,  and 
his  members  meet  him  in  the  church-yard,  vary- 
ing the  hour  and  the  spot  so  as  not  to  attract  at- 
tention, and  there  he  speaks  to  them  concerning 
the  things  of  God,  and  gives  them  Christian  coun- 
sel. Another  leader  meets  his  members  in  the 
church-yard  just  after  nightfall,  and  before  the 
nine  o'clock  bell  admonishes  all  slaves  to  seek  the 
shelter  of  their  homes,  they  being  liable  to  pun- 
ishment if  found  abroad  after  the  bell  has  tolled. 
There,  among  the  tombs,  they  hold  Christian  con- 
verse, assured  that  the  superstitious  fears  of  the 
people  will  secure  them  from  interruption,  as  none 
will  venture  to  enter  the  church-yard  after  it  has 
become  dark.  But  every  week  they  choose  a  dif- 
ferent evening,  lest  their  assembling  at  one  partic- 
ular time  should  bring  upon  them  the  observation 
of  the  enemy.  Another  of  the  leaders,  in  a  simi- 
lar way,  causes  his  members  to  meet,  at  a  time 
appointed  from  week  to  week,  under  a  tree  stand- 
ing in  an  open  field  beyond  the  city  boundaries, 
during  the  interval  between  sunset  and  the  tolling 
of  the  nine  o'clock  bell. 

But  there  is  one  female  leader  with  whom  none 
of  these  methods  are  available,  and  who  cannot 
visit  the  members  at  their  homes,  for  most  of  them 
are  domestic  slaves.  She  is  therefore  under  the 
necessity  of  finding  out  some  other  means  of  hold- 
ing  Christian    intercourse   with    them,    and     she 


The  Faniijie  of  the   Word.  6i 

finally  decides  upon  a  plan  that  serves  the  purpose 
well,  year  after  year,  until  the  dawning  of  better 
days.  A  particular  morning  is  selected,  but  fre- 
quently changed,  to  escape  observation.  At  the 
earliest  dawn  of  day  the  members  repair  to  a  cer- 
tain street,  this  also  being  changed  from  week  to 
week.  Passing  along  the  street,  the  leader  meets 
one  or  more  of  her  people  at  short  intervals,  and 
holds  a  brief  conversation  with  them  on  the  affairs 
of  the  soul,  until  she  has  seen  and  spoken  to  them 
all.  By  these,  and  other  equally  novel  methods, 
the  class-meetings,  so  important  in  Methodism, 
continue  to  be  held  ;  the  society  is  kept  well  to- 
gether ;  the  people,  animated  and  encouraged  by 
their  devoted  leaders,  continue  steadfastly  growing 
in  grace,  and  the  work  of  the  Lord  grows  and 
prospers. 

Four  years  have  gone  since  the  persecuting  or- 
dinance was  passed,  and  all  this  time  "  the  famine 
of  the  word  "  has  continued.  On  the  scriptural 
precept  of  returning  good  for  evil,  the  corporation 
of  the  city  have  been  accommodated  for  some 
months  with  the  use  of  the  chapel  for  the  free 
school  while  the  proper  building  has  been  under- 
going renovation.  This  act  of  kindness  on  the 
part  of  the  Methodists,  it  is  hoped,  will  soften  the 
stony  hearts  of  the  city  magistrates,  and  dispose 
them  to  show  less  hostility  toward  the  missionaries 
and  their  work.  Acting  on  the  assumption  that 
the  spirit  of  intolerance  has  so  far  abated  as  to 
admit  of  the  recommencement  of  public  worship 
without  interruption,    Mr.    Wiggins,  the    resident 


62  Romance  Without  Fiction, 

missionary,  ventures  to  open  the  chapel  and 
occupy  the  pulpit,  preaching  one  Sabbath  both  in 
the  forenoon  and  afternoon.  The  next  morning 
makes  it  manifest  that  the  spirit  of  persecution 
has  in  no  degree  been  modified  ;  for  the  offending 
preacher  is  summoned  to  the  police  office,  and 
sentenced  to  a  month's  confinement  in  the  com- 
mon jail.  He  is  also  informed  by  the  magistrates 
that  a  repetition  of  the  crime  will  be  visited  with 
the  full  penalty  of  the  law.  Thus  again  the  hopes 
of  the  people  are  blighted.  But  the  sympathizing 
multitude,  who  crowd  every  avenue  leading  to  the 
police  court,  and  attend  their  beloved  minister 
with  tears  to  the  jail,  make  it  evident  to  the  in- 
tolerant magistrates,  not  only  that  their  efforts  to 
suppress  this  hated  and  much  dreaded  Methodism 
have  utterly  failed,  but  that  it  has  become  more 
formidable  than  ever. 

Another  year  and  a  half  have  passed  away,  and 
still  the  house  of  God  is  shut  up,  while  the  failing 
health  of  the  imprisoned  missionary,  broken  by 
confinement  in  a  loathsome  cell,  has  compelled 
him  to  bid  a  reluctant  farewell  to  his  loving,  suf- 
fering flock,  and  try  what  a  change  to  another 
scene  of  labor  will  do  to  recruit  his  wasted  ener- 
gies. After  a  short  interval  a  successor  arrives, 
and  the  people  are  gladdened  once  more  to  be- 
hold their  teacher.  Since  the  last  imprisonment 
of  the  minister  of  the  truth  God  has  been  at  work, 
and  his  power  has  been  terribly  displayed.  The 
pestilence,  walking  in  darkness,  has  borne  thou- 
sands to  the  grave,  and  a  destructive  hurricane 


The  Famine  of  the  Word.  6i 

has  swept  over  the  guilty  countr)^,  producing 
wide-spread  devastation  both  by  sea  and  land. 
An  earthquake,  more  dreadful  and  alarming  than 
any  experienced  since  the  awful  visitation  that 
submerged  Port  Royal,  the  capital  of  the  colony, 
beneath  the  waves,  more  than  a  hundred  and 
twenty  years  before,  has  shaken  the  island  to  its 
center,  greatly  changing  the  aspect  of  the  country, 
and  speaking  with  its  voice  of  thunder  to  bid  a 
thoughtless,  guilty  people  stand  in  awe  of  God. 
These  upliftings  of  the  Almighty  arm  have  not 
been  without  effect.  Greater  intensity  has  been 
imparted  to  the  religious  feeling,  now  widely  per- 
vading the  city.  Even  the  persecuting  faction 
have  not  been  entirely  insensible  to  the  influence 
of  these  providential  visitations,  and  it  becomes 
manifest  that  a  considerable  change  has  taken 
place  in  their  feelings  and  views  with  regard  to 
the  missionaries  since,  eighteen  months  ago,  they 
gnashed  their  teeth  with  rage  against  a  Christian 
minister,  and  sent  him  to  breathe  the  fetid  atmos- 
phere of  the  city  prison. 

This  change  is  so  marked  that  it  is  considered 
advisable  to  make  another  effort  to  remove  the 
existing  disabilities  by  requesting  the  city  magis- 
trates to  grant  to  Mr.  Davis,  the  newly-arrived 
minister,  such  a  license  as  these  dignitaries  may 
deem  sufficient  to  warrant  the  re-opening  of  the 
chapel  for  public  worship.  With  many  misgivings 
the  petition  is  prepared  and  presented,  and  to  the 
surprise  and  joy  of  thousands,  after  a  few  merely 
technical  objections  to  the  form  of  the  petition,  its 


64  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

prayer  is  granted.  Mr.  Davis  is  licensed,  and  de- 
clared to  be  duly  qualified.  Several  weeks  elapse 
before  the  chapel  is  ready  to  receive  the  congre- 
gation, and  again  its  hallowed  walls  re-echo  the 
sounds  of  prayer  and  praise,  and  the  proclamation 
of  the  ever-blessed  Gospel. 

But  dark  and  mysterious  are  the  ways  of  Provi- 
dence !  Scarcely  has  this  great  joy  been  realized 
by  the  anxious  people,  many  of  whom  have  waited 
for  it  for  some  years,  when  it  is  turned  into  sor- 
row, the  voice  of  God's  honored  messenger,  upon 
whose  lips  multitudes  have  hung  with  unmixed 
delight,  being  suddenly  hushed  in  the  silence  of 
the  grave.  The  deadly  fever  has  seized  him,  and 
after  a  brief  illness  he  passes  away  to  the  Church 
above,  and  the  sanctuary  of  the  Lord  is  left  again 
to  solitude  and  silence. 

While  this  youthful  laborer,  snatched  away  in 
his  prime,  is  being  laid  in  the  dust,  amid  the  loud 
lamentations  of  the  afflicted  multitude,  who  grieve 
for  his  removal  from  among  them  as  a  mother 
mourns  the  loss  of  her  firstborn,  Jehovah,  the 
faithful  hearer  of  prayer,  is  bringing  another  to 
their  help.  He  is  already  crossing  the  Atlantic, 
for  whom  is  reserved  the  happy  privilege  of  tri- 
umphing over,  and  finally  removing,  those  legal 
hinderances  which  have  so  long  obstructed  the 
word  of  God.  Just  a  month  after  Mr.  Davis  had 
been  removed  by  deaih,  Mr.  Shipman,  with  his 
wife,  arrives  upon  the  scene.  But  when  applica- 
tion is  made  on  his  behalf  to  the  city  magistrates 
for  a  license   intolerance  has  gathered   strength, 


The  Famine  of  the  Word.  65 

and  is  found  to  be  once  more  in  the  ascendant. 
A  party  in  the  municipal  body,  styling  themselves 
anti-Wesleyans,  have  taken  possession  of  the  court, 
and  the  license  is  peremptorily  refused,  although 
the  application  is  supported  by  the  earnest  recom- 
mendation of  several  of  the  principal  inhabitants 
of  the  city.  Again  and  again  it  is  repeated,  but 
always  with  the  same  result.  The  more  liberal 
party  which  has  risen  up  in  the  City  Council  is  in- 
variably outvoted  by  the  bigots  of  slavery. 

Discouraged  by  these  repeated  disappointments, 
spreading  over  some  months,  the  baffled  mission- 
ary thinks  of  retiring  to  some  other  sphere  of 
labor,  where  he  will  be  able  to  exercise  his  minis- 
try without  interruption.  But  it  is  often  the  dark- 
est just  before  the  dawn.  When  he  is  almost  giv- 
ing place  to  despondency  a  friendly  member  of 
the  Common  Council  comes  forward  to  his  aid, 
advising  him  to  wait  patiently  for  a  while,  and 
suggesting  a  plan  likely  to  defeat  the  purposes  of 
the  persecutors.  The  co-operation  of  several 
members  of  the  municipal  body,  who  are  friendly 
to  missionary  efforts  and  can  be  relied  on,  is 
quietly  engaged,  and  they  all  agree  to  meet  at  a 
given  hour,  when  the  opposing  party,  in  conse- 
quence of  having  heard  nothing  concerning  the 
intention  of  the  missionary  to  apply  again  for  a 
license,  are  likely  to  be  off  their  guard.  At  the 
appointed  time,  arriving  from  different  points,  the 
friendly  magistrates  all  assemble  in  the  court, 
Mr.  Shipman,  who  is  waiting  close  at  hand,  is  im- 
mediately summoned,  and  before  the  opposers  can 


66  Romance  Without  Fiction, 

muster  in  sufficient  force  to  prevent  it,  the  mis- 
sionary is  duly  licensed  by  competent  authority  to 
exercise  his  ministry  within  the  municipal  bound- 
aries. All  over  the  city  there  is  great  joy  that 
the  doors  of  the  Lord's  house  are  again  to  be 
opened,  and  its  walls  resound  once  more  with  the 
songs  of  Christian  worshipers. 

There  is  in  the  society  a  white  lady — a  Mrs. 
Smith — who  was  among  the  first  seals  of  Dr. 
Coke's  ministry  in  Jamaica,  and  a  member  of  the 
first  class  formed  in  the  island,  consisting  of  eight 
members.  At  one  of  the  services,  soon  after  he 
arrived  in  the  colony,  the  life  of  the  good  doctor 
was  threatened  by  a  brutal  mob  of  slaveholders. 
This  lady,  with  noble,  undaunted  courage,  con- 
fronted them,  and  having  no  more  formidable 
weapon  at  command,  she  kept  the  savage,  cow- 
ardly assailants  at  bay  with  a  pair  of  scissors  until 
the  doctor  was  conducted  to  a  place  of  safety. 
A  mother  in  Israel,  and  greatly  and  deservedly 
beloved,  her  labors  and  prayers  have  been  un- 
ceasing during  the  long  persecution  and  privation 
which  the  Church  has  experienced.  A  pattern  of 
holiness  and  zeal  to  all,  she  has  encouraged  the 
timid,  strengthened  the  weak,  and  comforted  the 
afflicted,  and  her  noble  example  has  confirmed 
many  in  the  right  way. 

To  her,  by  universal  consent,  is  assigned  the 
honor  of  opening  the  gates  of  the  sanctuary  to  the 
crowd  of  anxious  worshipers.  The  third  of  Sep- 
tember is  the  appointed  day,  more  than  seven 
years  having  then  elapsed  since  the  persecuting 


TJie  Fami7ie  of  the  Word.  Gy 

ordinance  which  shut  up  the  chapel  began  to  take 
effect.  When  the  hour  for  divine  service  arrives 
several  thousands  have  gathered  in  the  large  square 
in  front  of  the  chapel.  The  missionary  lifts  from 
its  place  the  heavy  bar  that  keeps  the  gates  closed. 
Then  Mrs.  Smith,  lifting  her  voice  in  earnest 
prayer  to  God  that  persecution  may  never  again 
be  permitted  to  close  them,  so  as  to  shut  out  faith- 
ful worshipers  from  the  Lord's  house,  throws  them 
wide  open.  The  people  enter  and  crowd  every 
aisle  and  seat,  and  the  minister  ascends  the  pulpit, 
preaching  the  word  of  life  to  the  throng  of  eager, 
delighted  listeners  from  Psa.  Ixxxiv,  1-4 :  "  How 
amiable  are  thy  tabernacles,"  etc.  The  long 
dearth  of  the  bread  of  life,  which  multitudes  have 
keenly  felt  and  deplored  with  many  tears,  exists 
no  longer.  God  has  turned  the  sadness  of  his 
people  into  joy.  He  has  "made  them  glad  ac- 
cording to  the  days  wherein  he  afflicted  them, 
and  the  years  wherein  they  suffered  evil." 

How  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  the  Lord ! 
How  easy  is  it  for  him  to  baffle  the  enemies  of  his 
Church,  and  to  confound  the  devices  of  perse- 
cutors !  They  cursed  the  Lord's  people,  but  he 
changed  the  curse  into  a  blessing.  As  the  Lord 
himself  hath  said,  "  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens 
shall  laugh.  The  Lord  shall  have  them  in  deris- 
ion." They  thought  to  crush  and  destroy  the 
infant  Church  of  Christ,  but  he  has  strengthened 
and  enlarged  it  abundantly.  When  the  hand  of 
the  oppressor  closed  the  gates  of  the  sanctuary 
the  Church  enrolled  five  hundred  and  sixty  mem- 


68  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

bers  only.  When  the  over-ruling  providence  of 
God  caused  them  to  be  re-opened,  after  what 
some  call  "the  seven  years'  night,"  never  again 
to  be  closed  by  the  hand  of  violence,  the  society 
was  found  to  have  increased  to  one  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  twenty-three. 

Those  added  to  the  Church  during  this  time  of 
trial  were  a  choice  and  peculiar  people.  The 
writer  has  often  been  delighted  and  profited  when, 
in  the  love-feasts,  he  listened  to  their  profoundly 
interesting  narrations  of  a  rich  Christian  expe- 
rience. Many  hearts  have  been  strengthened,  and 
many  sincere  seekers  after  salvation  encouraged 
as  they  heard  them  tell  of  the  presence  and  power 
of  the  Head  of  the  Church  among  his  people 
when  they,  with  many  others,  were  brought  to 
God,  and  saved  from  the  guilt  and  power  of  sin 
during  "  the  seven  years'  famine  of  the  word." 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  69 


III. 

The  Martyr  Missionary. 

A  patriot's  blood  may  earn,  indeed, 
And  Tor  a  time  insure  to  his  loved  land 
The  sweets  of  liberty  and  equal  laws; 
But  martyrs  struggle  for  a  brighter  prize, 
And  win  it  with  more  pain.    Their  blood  is  shed 
In  confirmation  of  the  noblest  claim. 
Our  claim  to  feed  upon  immortal  truth. 
To  walk  with  God,  to  be  divinely  free. 
To  soar,  and  to  anticipate  the  skies. — Cowpee. 

f^HE  date  of  our  tale  carries  us  back  on  the 
h  stream  of  time  some  sixteen  or  seventeen 
years.  Far  up  among  the  mountains,  in  the 
interior  of  Jamaica,  a  missionary,  who  has  borne 
the  toils  and  anxieties  of  fifteen  years  in  that  land 
of  oppression,  (during  which  time  he  had  passed 
through  many  vicissitudes,  and  rejoiced  greatly 
over  the  downfall  of  colonial  slavery,)  is  standing 
by  the  side  of  a  low,  plain  brick  tomb,  undistin- 
guished by  any  inscription  to  inform  the  beholder 
whose  ashes  are  slumbering  in  the  dust  beneath. 
The  tomb  is  discolored  by  time  and  moss-grown. 
Grass  and  weeds  almost  conceal  it,  for  it  is  nearly 
twenty  years  since  that  grave  was  opened  to  re- 
ceive the  remains  of  a  victim  of  bigotry  and  per- 
secution, who  rests  there  awaiting  the  morning  of 
the  resurrection,  and  "  the  glory  that  is  to  be  re- 


70  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

vealed  "  in  the  saint  at  "  the  manifestations  of  the 
sons  of  God."  To  visit  that  tomb  the  missionary 
has  taken  a  journey  of  some  miles. 

The  evening  is  most  lovely.  Gentle,  sweet,  and 
balmy  are  the  breezes  sweeping  by,  just  sufficient 
to  temper  the  heat  and  bear  to  the  gratified  sense 
the  delicious  fragrance  gleaned  from  rich  orange 
blossoms  adorning  a  multitude  of  trees  with  which 
the  surrounding  pastures  abound.  The  western 
sky  is  lighted  up  with  splendor  and  beauty,  for 
the  sun  is  near  his  setting,  and  paints  one  of  those 
gorgeous  scenes  which  are  never  witnessed  to  such 
advantage  as  within  the  tropics. 

The  scenery  all  around  is  very  pleasant  to  the 
eye.  The  spot  upon  which  the  visitor  stands,  by 
the  side  of  that  long-closed  grave,  is  in  a  lovely 
valley  amid  the  mountains  of  St.  Ann's.  No  cane- 
fields  or  sugar-works  meet  the  sight,  fcr  it  is  a  part 
of  the  country  altogether  devoted  to  pasture. 
There  are  gentle  glades  and  undulating  hills, 
where  waves  the  luxuriant  Guinea  grass,  intro- 
duced into  the  country  by  a  slave-ship  from 
Africa  in  a  way  that  may  be  called  accidental, 
and  proving  a  rich  and  invaluable  boon  to  the 
planters.  There  are  clumps  of  cedar  and  other 
valuable  trees,  giving  a  rich  and  park-like  appear- 
ance to  the  landscape,  interspersed  with  vast  num- 
bers of  the  orange,  now  white  with  its  delicate 
snowy  blossoms,  so  fragrant  and  so  pure.  Here 
and  there  towers  an  ancient  specimen  of  the  wild 
cotton,  whose  giant  stem,  shooting  up  eighty  or 
ninety   feet,   at   length   throws   wide   its   massive 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  7 1 

umbrageous  limbs.  Vast  patches  of  woodland 
away  in  the  distance  diversify  the  scene,  occa- 
sionally broken  by  openings  of  greater  or  less 
extent,  marking  spots  where  the  emancipated 
negro  has  partly  cleared  the  virgin  land  from  the 
heavy  timber  which  covered  his  newly  purchased 
freehold,  and  where  he  has  fixed  his  humble  cot- 
tage, now  that  he  has  become  an  owner  of  the  soil 
to  which  he  was  attached  first  as  a  slave,  and  then 
as  an  apprenticed  laborer.  Encircling  the  whole, 
and  bounding  the  landscape,  may  be  traced, 
through  a  pellucid  atmosphere,  the  outline  of  im- 
mense ranges  of  mountains  stretching  far  away, 
covered  with  forests,  the  growth  of  many  cen- 
turies. 

All  around  is  enchanting ;  but  the  missionary's 
eye  rests  again  upon  the  humble  grave,  and  then, 
close  at  hand,  upon  the  ruins  of  a  mission  chapel, 
and  a  dilapidated  but  still  tenantable  mission 
house,  exhibiting  a  strange  and  sad  contrast  to 
the  smiling  beauty  of  the  landscape,  and  telling, 
in  their  mournful  desolation,  with  silent  eloquence, 
of  days  when  all  bad  passions  were  called  into  ex- 
ercise to  oppose  the  faithful  preaching  of  the  truth. 
On  this  spot  there  stood  a  Christian  sanctuary, 
built  of  the  hard  wood  of  the  country,  and  capable 
of  receiving  from  five  to  six  hundred  worshipers. 
Its  walls  once  resounded  with  the  proclamation  of 
the  glorious  Gospel  and  the  unrivaled  hymns  of 
the  Wesleys,  sung  by  hundreds  still  bearing  the 
yoke  of  earthly  masters,  while,  spiritually  eman- 
cipated,   they   exulted    in    the    liberty  wherewith 


^2  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Christ  had  made  them  free.  And  there  at  one 
end  of  the  house  of  God  was  the  unpretending 
but  sufficient  house  for  the  residence  of  the  mis- 
sionary. A  few  uncovered  rafters  overhead,  part 
of  the  framework  of  the  floor,  and  several  upright 
pieces  of  timber  that  once  supported  the  roof, 
these  only  remain  of  the  attractive  and  commo- 
dious house  of  prayer  that  formerly  adorned  this 
place,  inviting  the  sable  sons  and  daughters  of 
Africa  to  come  and  join  in  the  worship  of  the 
Holy  One,  who  "  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  na- 
tions of  men  for  to  dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the 
earth."  And  the  pleasant  dwelling,  though  still 
partly  inhabited,  is  but  the  wreck  of  what  it  was 
years  ago,  before  this  lovely  station  was  made 
desolate  by  persecution,  stirred  up  by  a  slave  op- 
pressor, whose  position  as  rector  of  the  parish  im- 
parts a  deeper  turpitude  to  cruelties  and  atrocities 
suffered  by  his  own  and  other  people's  slaves  at 
his  hands  or  through  his  instigation.  As  the 
visitor  stands  there  at  the  lonely  tomb  until  the 
sun  disappears  behind  the  distant  hills,  and  the 
fast-receding  splendors  amid  which  the  glorious 
orb  has  dipped  beneath  the  distant  western  wave 
admonish  him  that  the  time  has  come  for  re- 
mounting his  horse,  he  is  busy  with  memories, 
both  pleasing  and  painful,  associated  with  the 
history  of  that  desecrated  sanctuary  and  the 
martyr's  grave.  The  scenes  of  by-gone  days  rise 
in  a  vivid  light  to  his  mind,  like  a  series  of  dis- 
solving views,  awakening  mingled  emotions  of  in- 
dignation and  sympathy,  but  all  merging  in  pro- 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  73 

found  gratitude  to  Him,  the  Wise  and  Good,  who 
hath  made  "  the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  "  him, 
while  "  the  remainder  of  wrath  "  he  hath  "  re- 
strained." Let  some  of  these  changing  scenes 
pass  in  review  before  us. 

A  meeting  is  held  in  the  humble  chapel  at 
Spanish  Town,  the  capital  of  the  colony,  called 
by  the  Spaniards  Santiago  de  la  Vega,  where  are 
situated  the  princely  residence  of  the  governor, 
and  an  extensive  suite  of  government  buildings 
and  offices,  in  the  midst  of  which  stands  Rodney's 
temple,  an  ornamental  structure  erected  to  the 
honor  of  our  naval  hero  of  that  name,  and  in- 
tended to  commemorate  the  victories  he  gained 
in  these  western  seas.  The  temple  is  adorned 
with  a  costly  marble  statue  of  the  admiral,  and 
several  massive  guns  taken  from  the  captured  or 
sunken  ships  of  the  enemy.  The  meeting  which 
is  gomg  on  in  the  humble  place  of  worship  is  not 
one  of  the  regular  services,  but  a  meeting  held  by 
the  choir  for  practicing  tunes  to  be  sung  in  the 
public  ordinances  of  the  church.  Attracted  by 
the  music,  a  gentleman  enters  the  building  and 
quietly  takes  a  distant  seat,  listening  with  evident 
interest.  When  the  little  assembly  of  harmonists 
breaks  up  the  stranger  does  not  retire  ;  but  after 
their  departure  he  advances,  and  apologizing  for 
the  apparent  intrusion,  introduces  himself  to  the 
missionary  as  Mr.  Stephen  Drew,  a  barrister,  re- 
siding on  his  own  estate  in  St.  Ann's  parish,  called 
Belmont.  In  the  conversation  that  follows  the 
minister  discovers   that  his  new  acquaintance  is 


74  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

not  a  stranger  to  religious  influences  and  religious 
feelings,  and  it  transpires,  all  the  more  interest- 
ingly and  pleasingly  because  so  unusual  among 
the  planters  of  Jamaica,  that  he  has  adopted  the 
practice  of  reading  prayers  among  his  slaves  every 
Sabbath  morning,  and  that  he  usually  accompanies 
this  service  with  one  of  Wesley's  sermons.  This 
pleasant  interview,  destined  to  lead  to  many  very 
important  results,  ends  with  the  expression,  on  the 
part  of  the  stranger,  of  a  desire  to  have  his  slaves 
instructed  in  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel  by 
Wesleyan  ministers,  and  a  polite  and  earnest  re- 
quest that  the  missionary  will  favor  him  with  a 
speedy  visit  at  his  residence  in  the  mountains. 
An  early  opportunity  is  taken  by  the  Spanish 
Town  minister  to  comply  with  the  invitation,  and 
after  a  ride  of  about  forty  miles  through  most 
romantic  and  magnificent  scenery,  he  arrives  at 
Belmont  and  receives  a  warm  welcome.  During 
this  first  short  visit  the  missionary  opens  his  com- 
mission among  the  inhabitants  of  St.  Ann's  parish 
by  preaching  every  evening  to  the  family  of  his 
host  and  the  slaves  resident  on  the  "  pen  "  (it 
would  be  called  a  grazing  farm  in  England  or 
America)  the  welcome  tidings  of  salvation  through 
the  atonement  of  Jesus.  It  is  the  first  time  that 
wide-spread  parish  has  seen  a  Christian  minister 
preaching  to  a  congregation  of  slaves,  for  all  are 
slaves  except  the  master  and  his  family,  and  two 
or  three  white  officials  who  have  the  direction  and 
oversight  of  the  property.  It  is  true  there  is  a 
parish  church,  but  this  is  small,  and  ten  miles  distant. 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  75 

Nor  was  it  built  with  a  view  to  the  instruction  of 
the  negro  race,  but  for  the  white  inhabitants, 
these  only  being  regarded  as  under  the  pastoral 
care  of  the  island  clergy.  As  to  the  man  who 
officiates  there,  his  claim  to  the  designation  of  a 
Christian  minister  is  more  than  questionable,  for 
all  that  ever  was  Christian  about  him  is  sunk  and 
lost  in  the  brutal  and  callous  slaveholder,  of  which 
class  he  exhibits  the  worst  type,  while  the  owner 
of  Belmont  is  an  example  of  the  most  indulgent 
and  the  best. 

After  a  few  days'  visit,  which  has  awakened  a 
considerable  interest  in  the  neighborhood,  the  mis- 
sionary retraces  his  path  to  his  home  in  the  low, 
hot,  dusty  town  of  Santiago  de  la  Vega,  with  pleas- 
ant memories  of  the  journey,  and  the  new  friend- 
ships and  associations  he  has  formed.  Some  weeks 
later  the  impaired  health  of  his  wife  induces  him 
to  accept  a  pressing  invitation  from  his  Belmont 
host  and  hostess  to  give  the  sufferer  the  benefit 
of  a  change  to  the  cool  and  more  salubrious  cli- 
mate of  the  St.  Ann's  mountains.  Removed 
thither  by  gentle  stages,  the  sinking  invalid  in 
that  pleasant  region  recruits  her  wasted  energies  ; 
and  soon  the  pallid,  sunken  cheek  exhibits  again 
as  much  of  the  bloom  of  health  and  youth  as  is 
usually  to  be  found  within  the  tropics.  Mean- 
while, her  husband  is  diligently  spreading  the  truth 
among  the  enslaved  population  around.  ■  He  can 
gain  no  access  to  them  on  the  week-day,  beyond  the 
boundary  of  his  friend's  estate;  but  on  the  Sab- 
bath a  multitude  of  the  poor  slaves  flock  from  all 


^6  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  surrounding  country,  having  heard  of  the  min- 
ister who  is  preaching  at  Belmont ;  some  influenced 
by  curiosity,  but  many  eager  to  hear  about  the 
Crucified,  and  the  heaven  of  joy  and  love  which 
they  may  gain  through  his  merits,  after  the  unre- 
quited toils  and  wasting  hardships  of  their  present 
unenviable  lot  shall  have  passed  away.  The  mis- 
sionary's wife,  too,  devotes  her  rapidly  increasing 
strength  to  the  instruction  of  these  dark  children 
of  Africa — dark  in  mind  as  in  complexion — with 
the  full  sanction  of  their  God-fearing  owner,  who 
is  anxious  that  his  bondmen  and  bondwomen  may 
share  with  himself  the  joyous  hopes  of  life  and  im- 
mortality beyond  the  grave.  The  blessed  seed  of 
the  kingdom,  cast  among  the  enslaved  children  of 
Ham,  has  generally  found  a  genial  and  fruitful 
soil.  And  there  is  no  exception  here.  Dark  eyes 
glisten  with  mingled  emotions,  and  dark  faces 
stream  with  copious  tears,  as  the  man  of  God 
dwells  on  the  story  of  the  cross,  and  expatiates  on 
God's  wondrous  love  to  the  lowliest  and  guiltiest 
of  the  sinful  race — the  slave  as  well  as  the  free, 
the  black  man  as  well  as  the  white,  all  equally  in- 
terested in  the  atonement  which  love  has  provided. 
The  melodies  of  the  Methodist  poet,  sung  by  clear 
and  tuneful  voices,  now  begin  to  be  heard  in  the 
cottages  around,  and  earnest  supplication,  in  sim- 
ple, broken  language,  goes  up  from  many  a  retreat 
amid  these  pleasant  vales  and  mountains,  where 
the  voice  of  prayer  was  never  heard  before.  The 
power  of  the  word  has  been  felt  in  not  a  few  weary 
hearts,  and  with    a  ready  faith   the   blessings  of 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  77 

salvation  have  been  appropriated.  In  a  word,  souls 
have  passed  from  death  unto  life  ;  so  that,  on  New 
Year's  day,  thirty  to  forty,  professing  faith  in  the 
blood  of  Christ,  and  experiencing  its  cleansing 
power,  are  baptized  in  the  name  of  the  ever- 
blessed  Trinity.  Thus  are  laid  the  foundations  of 
a  Church  destined  to  pass  through  many  trials 
and  triumphs,  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  pro- 
perty being  enrolled  among  its  earliest  members ; 
for  they  also  have  obtained,  through  believing, 
"the  peace  which  passeth  all  understanding." 
Before  the  missionary  returns  to  his  own  appointed 
sphere  of  labor  in  the  capital,  after  a  sojourn  of 
three  months  in  St.  Ann's,  an  arrangement  is  con- 
cluded for  this  new  station  to  be  visited  on  one 
Sabbath  in  six  weeks,  to  the  great  joy  of  many, 
who  hope  to  have  a  missionary  ere  long  stationed 
in  their  own  parish. 

Three  years  pass  away.  Through  the  occasion- 
al visits  of  the  missionaries,  and  the  zealous  labors 
of  the  Christian  proprietor  of  Belmont,  (now  be- 
come an  efficient  local  preacher,)  many  souls  have 
been  brought  to  God;  societies,  more  or  less 
promising,  have  been  established  ;  and  preaching- 
aouses  have  been  opened  at  several  other  places  in 
ihe  parish,  chiefly  along  the  coast.  And  the  time 
has  arrived  for  taking  measures  in  order  to  the 
more  permanent  establishment  of  the  mission  at 
Belmont,  by  the  erection  of  suitable  buildings  for 
public  worship,  and  for  a  missionary's  residence  ; 
so  that  the  growing  work  of  God  in  this  part  of  the 
island  maybe  placed  under  the  immediate  pastoral 


i 

78  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

oversight.  The  estate  is  so  held  by  its  present 
occupant  and  owner,  that  the  concurrence  of  his 
children,  who  are  all  minors,  is  necessary  to  convey 
an  absolute  right  to  any  portion  of  it ;  which, 
therefore,  cannot  be  legally  done  till  they  have  at- 
tained their  majority.  In  hope  that  either  himself 
or  his  wife,  if  not  both,  may  survive  that  period, 
or  that,  at  all  events,  he  maybe  able  to  effect  such 
arrangements  as  will  finally  secure  the  property 
for  the  object  contemplated,  a  suitable  piece  of 
land  is  conveyed  to  the  society  at  Belmont,  not  of 
much  value  to  the  estate  itself,  though  a  most  ac- 
ceptable gift  to  them.  This  is  accompanied  by  a 
donation  of  the  timber  necessary  for  the  buildings, 
and  after  considerable  delay  the  several  erections 
are  commenced.  Pecuniary  difficulties  arise,  so 
that  years  elapse  before  the  undertaking  is  com- 
pleted. But  these  difficulties  are  at  length 
surmounted  ;  and,  to  the  unbounded  joy  of  a  mul- 
titude of  the  sable  and  oppressed  denizens  of  the 
parish,  a  commodious  sanctuary,  and  a  pleasant 
house  adjoining,  are  made  ready  to  serve  the 
purpose  of  their  erection.  And  there  the  work  of 
the  Lord  abundantly  prospers.  It  is  a  center  of 
Gospel  light  and  influence,  with  radiations  sweep- 
ing over  many  miles  around.  Hundreds  of  souls 
are  there  born  of  God,  and  set  free  from  the  mis- 
erable thraldom  of  sin.  On  the  Sabbath  morning 
the  whole  country  is  enlivened,  as  numbers  of  the 
enslaved  peasantry  in  their  best  attire,  and  not  a 
few  of  the  free  colored  inhabitants,  wend  their  way 
in    the   direction  of  Belmont,  reminding  the  be- 


The  Martyr  Missionafy.  y<^ 

holder  of  the  beautiful  words  of  a  Hebrew  prophet : 
"  And  many  people  shall  go  and  say,  Come  ye, 
and  let  us  go  up  to  the  mountain  of  the  Lord,  to 
the  house  of  the  God  of  Jacob;  and  he  will  teach 
us  of  his  ways,  and  we  will  walk  in  his  paths."  Isa. 

ii,  3- 

For  several  years  this  work  has  gone  on  without 
interruption,  though  scanned  by  some  with  an  evil 
and  suspicious  eye  ;  the  character  of  Mr.  Drew, 
and  his  influence  in  the  parish,  being  sufficient  to 
restrain  the  spirit  of  persecution,  until  many  of  the 
new  converts  have  become  established  in  grace. 
But  there  is  one  hard-hearted  man,  whose  talents, 
and  position  as  rector,  give  him  great  power  to 
work  mischief.  From  the  beginning  this  man  has 
watched  the  progress  of  the  Methodist  mission 
with  jealous  and  malignant  feelings,  which  only 
wanted  an  opportunity  for  development ;  and  his 
influence  has  been  covertly  exerted  to  arouse 
among  his  parishioners  a  spirit  of  like  hostility. 
These  efforts,  entirely  at  variance  with  the  spirit 
proper  to  his  sacred  office,  combined  with  the  ex- 
ample of  other  persecutors,  who  have  caused  the 
death  of  the  Missionary  Smith  in  Demerara,  and 
demolished  the  Wesleyan  chapel  in  Barbadoes, 
have  not  been  without  fruit ;  and  there  now  exists 
an  amount  of  bitterness  and  hatred,  among  the 
planters  of  St.  Ann's  parish,  well  calculated  to  pro- 
duce similar  results  in  Jamaica  when  a  favorable 
opportunity  shall  arise.  The  first  indication  of 
this  bad  feeling  is  seen  in  the  refusal  of  the  magis- 
trates  to    license  two   missionaries  appointed    to 


8o  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

labor  in  the  parish  ;  these  functionaries  assuming 
to  themselves  the  power  (which,  according  to  a 
subsequent  decision  of  the  highest  legal  author- 
ities of  the  island,  they  had  no  right  to  do)  of  re- 
quiring every  missionary  to  take  out  a  separate 
license  for  the  parish,  and  of  refusing  such  license 
at  their  pleasure.  This  being  assumed  in  every 
other  parish,  the  missionaries  are  subjected  to 
most  vexatious  restrictions.  The  effect  in  the 
present  case  is  to  deprive  St.  Ann's,  for  awhile,  of 
a  resident  missionary.  During  this  time  one  of 
the  brethren,  (Mr.  Ratcliffe,)  who  has  already  ob- 
tained a  license  authorizing  him  to  preach  in  the 
parish,  devotes  to  it  much  of  his  labor,  although 
residing  at  a  distance  of  some  forty  miles,  until  he 
is  enabled  so  far  to  free  himself  from  other  en- 
gagements as  to  take  up  his  abode  for  a  year  or 
two  in  St.  Ann's.  Thus  the  plans  of  the  perse- 
cutors are  frustrated.  But  the  spirit  of  intolerance 
has  become  increasingly  rampant ;  and,  before 
leaving  his  fruitful  field  of  toil,  this  peaceable  min- 
ister of  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  family,  narrowly 
escape  the  violence  of  a  gang  of  ruffians  insti- 
gated to  the  outrage  by  the  slaveholding  rector  ! 

Mr.  Ratcliffe,  whose  name  is  precious  wherever 
he  has  labored,  is  succeeded  by  a  younger  min- 
ister holding  no  license  from  the  magistrates  of 
St.  Ann's.  He  does  not,  however,  think  himself 
called  upon  to  desist  from  his  sacred  labor  until 
the  arrival  of  the  quarter-sessions,  but  commences 
preaching  at  all  the  stations,  intending  to  apply  to 
the  court  at  its  next  sitting.     In  the  person  of  one  of 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  8 1 

the  parish  functionaries,  who  combines  in  himself 
the  offices  of  head-constable  and  master  of  the 
workhouse  and  jail,  (both  places  of  punishment,) 
is  exhibited  one  of  the  worst  types  of  humanity ;  a 
man  rendered  callous  and  brutal,  to  an  extraor- 
dinary degree,  by  doing  the  will  of  the  slavehold- 
ers in  punishing  the  unfortunate  slaves,  until  he 
actually  feels  a  savage  delight  in  witnessing  and 
inflicting  suffering.  The  payment  of  a  small  fee 
is  all  that  is  necessary  to  secure  at  his  hands,  and 
to  any  extent,  the  punishment  of  a  slave  sent  for 
the  purpose.  In  him  the  rector  finds  a  willing  and 
unscrupulous  agent  for  gratifying  his  own  malignity 
toward  those  who  are  seeking  to  meliorate  the  sad 
condition  of  the  masses  in  the  parish,  by  diffusing 
among  them  the  blessed  light  of  the  Gospel.  The 
constable-jailer  first  attempts  to  silence  the  man 
of  God  by  threats,  but  in  vain.  Then,  when  the 
missionary  applies  to  the  court  of  quarter-sessions, 
he  opposes  him  there,  and  represents  to  the  mag- 
istrates that  this  Methodist  preacher  has  set  the 
law  at  naught  by  preaching  without  a  license ; 
although  there  is,  in  fact,  no  law  rendering  it 
necessary  to  obtain  a  license  in  any  other  part  of 
the  island,  when,  in  compliance  with  the  British 
Toleration  Act,  the  oaths  have  been  taken  in  one 
parish,  which  the  missionary  has  done.  But  the 
designs  of  this  evil-minded  man  and  his  employer 
are  baffled  by  the  influence  of  the  ctcstos,  the  Hon. 
Henry  Cox,  who  has  not  come  under  the  unholy 
influence  diffused  through  the  parish,  and  whose 
knowledge  of  Mr.  Drew,  and  of  the  labors  of  the 


82  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

missionaries,  enables  him  more  correctly  to  esti- 
mate the  benefits  which  they  are  conferring  both 
upon  the  enslaved  people  and  their  owners.  The 
custos  succeeds  in  bringing  over  the  other  magis- 
trates to  his  own  views;  the  missionary  is  allowed 
to  take  the  oaths  ;  and,  having  paid  somewhat  ex- 
orbitant fees  to  the  officers  of  the  court,  he  takes 
his  departure  with  a  certificate  which  recognizes 
his  right  to  exercise  his  ministry  throughout  the 
parish  of  St.  Ann. 

Defeated  in  this  attempt  to  break  up  the  re- 
ligious services  of  the  Methodists  at  Belmont  and 
elsewhere,  the  constable  is  frequently  to  be  found 
hovering  about  the  chapel  doors,  abusing  and 
threatening  the  poor  slaves  as  they  enter  or  leave 
the  house  of  prayer,  and  reporting  their  attendance 
there  to  the  overseers  of  the  several  estates  to 
which  they  belong ;  thus  causing  them,  in  some 
instances,  to  be  cruelly  punished  by  their  task- 
masters. But  the  malign  influence  of  the  rector  is 
at  work  in  another  direction.  Many  times  the 
legislature  of  the  island  has  enacted  laws  with  a 
view  to  suppress  the  labors  of  the  missionaries 
among  the  slaves  ;  but  as  often  have  these  wicked 
attempts  been  neutralized  by  the  vigilance  of 
Christian  friends  in  England,  and  by  the  liberal 
feeling  of  the  home  Government.  However  cun- 
ningly constructed,  the  oppressive  enactments 
have  been  uniformly  disallowed  by  the  sovereign 
in  council.  But  again  this  engine  of  mischief  is 
set  to  work,  and  all  the  art  and  address  of  the 
clever  rector  are  brought  to  the  task  of  so  draw- 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  83 

ing  up  an  act,  which  is  to  break  up  the  missions 
as  to  insure  the  approval  of  the  Government  at 
home.  A  law  is  framed,  consisting  of  nearly  a 
hundred  clauses,  professedly  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  the  slaves,  and  to  secure  to  them  various 
advantages  and  indulgences.  Among  these  is  a 
provision  to  make  slave  evidence  admissible  in 
certain  cases — a  concession  hitherto  sternly  and 
indignantly  refused  by  the  local  legislature.  But 
all  this  is  intended  as  the  vehicle  for  passing  into 
the  authority  of  established  law  (as  nurses  dis- 
guise medicine  for  children  in  that  which  is 
agreeable  to  the  palate)  other  provisions  of  a  most 
intolerant  character,  which  go  to  deprive  the 
negroes  of  all  religious  rights — provisions  which 
make  punishable  with  heavy  fine  or  imprisonment 
the  assembling  of  slaves  between  sunset  and  sun- 
rise for  religious  instruction  by  any  persons,  not 
of  the  Established  Church,  professing  to  be  teach- 
ers of  religion  ;  excepting,  in  most  distinct  terms, 
Jews  and  Roman  Catholics  ! — while  Presbyterians 
and  "  licensed  ministers  "  are  allowed  to  hold  serv- 
ices as  late  as  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  It 
is  also  made  a  crime  for  slaves  to  give  any  instruc- 
tion to  each  other;  a  clause  evidently  designed 
to  restrain  slaves  from  acting  as  class-leaders. 
Moreover  it  is  proposed  to  punish  missionaries 
who  receive  contributions  from  slaves  for  any 
pious  or  charitable  purposes  whatsoever.  This 
"  nev/  consolidated  slave  law,"  as  it  is  called,  is 
nothing  more  or  less  than  a  deep  plot,  the  off- 
spring of  the  fertile  brain  of  the  rector,  to  entrap 
6 


84  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

his  majesty's  Government  into  concurrence  with  a 
system  of  persecution  and  of  great  cruelty.  For, 
what  could  be  more  cruel  than  to  take  from  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  oppression  their  only  solace 
under  the  iron  yoke  and  shut  them  up  to  all  the 
consequences  of  ignorance  ? 

But  the  persecutors  have  "  reckoned  within 
their  host."  The  gay  duke,  representing  his  maj- 
esty in  this  colony,  shows  himself  quite  ready  to 
indorse  and  sanction  their  attempt  to  add  bitter- 
ness to  the  lot  of  the  oppressed,  under  the  hypo- 
critical pretense  of  conferring  benefits  upon  them. 
But,  to  give  it  permanence,  the  act  must  have  also 
the  approval  of  the  king  in  council ;  and  his  maj- 
esty's ministers  are  not  so  easily  deceived  as  the 
rector  of  St.  Ann's,  and  his  brother  conspirators 
against  the  rights  and  liberties  of  their  fellow-men, 
suppose.  There  is  in  the  Colonial  Office  one  who 
has  occupied  a  seat  there  for  many  years  as  a 
principal  clerk  under  several  administrations — a 
man  whose  large  heart  warmly  sympathizes  with 
the  slaves  and  their  persecuted  instructors,  and 
who  is  thoroughly  awake  to  all  the  finesse  and 
hypocrisy  of  colonial  legislation.  The  profession 
of  the  Jamaica  Legislature  to  be  concerned  about 
improving  the  condition  of  the  slave  goes  with  him 
for  as  much  as  it  is  worth.  It  is  justly  regarded 
as  an  index  to  evil  at  work.  He  knows  them  and 
Iheir  proclivities  well.  At  once  his  eagle  glance 
penetrates  the  real  design  of  this  elaborate  enact- 
ment, and  all  its  cruelty  and  treachery  lie  open  to 
his   view  :  for  long   experience  in  colonial  affairs 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  85 

has  taught  him  how  easy  it  will  be  for  the  planters, 
when  once  their  real  object  in  preventing  negro 
instruction  by  the  missionaries  is  secured  by  law, 
to  reduce  to  a  dead  letter  every  thing  that  is  made 
to  wear  a  kind  and  indulgent  aspect  toward  the 
slaves.  In  addition,  there  is  the  masterly  intellect 
of  Richard  Watson  at  the  Mission  House  in  Lon- 
don ;  and  his  powerful  pen  lays  bare  the  deformity 
and  wickedness  of  this  piece  of  colonial  legislation, 
in  the  protest  of  the  Missionary  Committee  laid 
before  his  majesty's  council.^  In  a  short  time 
(far  shorter  than  is  usually  occupied  in  the  dis- 
posal of  a  colonial  bill  )  a  dispatch  arrives  in 
Jamaica,  bearing  the  honored  name  of  Huskisson, 
which  disallows  the  "  new  consolidated  slave  law," 
and  embodies  such  comments  as  prove  that  its 
real  character,  however  well  disguised,  is  under- 
stood and  appreciated  by  the  ministers  of  the 
crown.  The  covert  invasion  of  that  religious 
liberty  to  which  all  subjects  of  the  British  crown 
are  entitled — the  attempt  to  prevent  all  mutual 
instruction  among  the  slaves — the  prohibition  of 
religious  meetings  between  sunset  and  sunrise, 
amounting  in  many  cases  to  a  prohibition  of  re- 
ligious worship  altogether,  especially  in  the  case 
of  domestic  slaves — the  invidious  distinction  set 
up  between  Protestant  Nonconformists  and  Jews 
and  Roman  Catholics — and  the  attempt  to  forbid 
by  law  to  the  slave  what  is  required  of  all  by  New 
Testament  precept,  (namely,  the  contributing 
for  pious  and  charitable  uses,)  are  pointed  out, 
and  commented  on,  in  terms  that  are  gall  and 


86  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

wormwood  to  the  baffled  authors  of  this  nefarious 
plot.  And  the  dispatch,  so  worthy  the  heart  and 
head  of  a  Christian  statesman,  concludes  with  an 
impressive  mandate  to  the  Governor-General,  in- 
tended to  guide  him  and  all  his  successors  in  that 
high  station,  and  to  prevent  the  coming  into  oper- 
ation, even  for  a  short  season,  of  any  such  act : 
"  I  cannot  too  distinctly  impress  upon  you  that 
it  is  the  settled  purpose  of  his  majesty's  Government 
to  sanction  no  colonial  law  which  needlessly  infrifiges 
on  the  religious  liberty  of  any  class  of  his  majesty s 
subjects ;  and  you  will  understand  that  you  are 
not  to  asse?it  to  any  bill  imposing  a?iy  restraint  of 
that  fiature^  unless  a  clause  be  inserted  for  suspending 
its  operation  until  his  majesty's  pleasure  shall  be 
known." 

But,  while  the  wretched  "  law  "  has  been  slowly 
traveling  to  Europe  and  back;  (there  being  no 
fleet  of  massive  steamers  as  yet  traversing  the 
broad  Atlantic,)  and  during  the  time  it  had  been 
under  discussion  at  the  Colonial  Office,  it  has  come 
into  temporary  operation  in  Jamaica,  and  eager 
advantage  is  taken  of  it  in  many  parts  of  the  island, 
but  especially  in  St.  Ann's,  to  harass  and  persecute 
the  religious  instructors  of  the  slaves.  The  new 
"  law  "  began  to  take  effect  on  the  loth  of  May  ; 
and,  before  the  month  expires,  Mr.  Grimsdall, 
the  missionary  resident  at  Belmont,  being  the  sec- 
ond who  has  occupied  the  new  house  there,  is 
summoned  before  the  magistrates  in  special  ses- 
sion, to  answer  complaints  preferred  by  the  con- 
stable.    It  is  alleged  that  he  has  preached  in  an 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  8y 

unlicensed  house  at  Ocho  Rios,  and  has  also 
preached  to  a  company  of  slaves  at  unlawful 
hours — that  is,  after  sunset.  He  obeys  the  sum- 
mons. To  the  first  charge  the  accused  replies, 
that  foi  about  three  years  the  house  in  question 
has  been  used  as  a  place  of  religious  worship  ;  but 
that,  to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  new  law, 
he  has  done  all  that  was  practicable  in  the  case, 
having  sent  in  a  certificate  to  the  clerk  of  the 
peace,  showing  that  the  house  is  intended  to  be 
still  used  as  formerly,  and  conveying  an  application 
that  it  should  be  accordingly  registered  at  the 
court  of  quarter-sessions.  The  three  magistrates 
upon  the  bench  require  that  he  shall  cease  to 
use  the  house  for  religious  purposes  until  it  has 
been  duly  licensed  by  this  court.  He  is  very 
well  convinced  that  this  is  only  a  scheme  to  put 
an  end  to  the  services  in  that  place  altogether, 
(Herein,  as  it  turns  out,  he  is  quite  right ;  for, 
when  the  quarter-sessions  arrive,  the  magistrates 
assume  and  exercise  the  illegal  power  of  refusing 
to  "  record  "  the  house.)  However,  as  it  will  in- 
volve no  more  than  the  cessation  of  the  services 
for  a  few  weeks,  he  submits  to  this  arbitrary 
stretch  of  authority,  and  consents  to  abstain  from 
preaching  at  Ocho  Rios  until  the  court  of  quarter- 
sessions  has  been  held.  In  dealing  with  the  charge 
of  preaching  to  slaves  at  unlawful  hours,  the  ac- 
cused refers  to  the  very  clause  of  the  law  under 
which  the  complaint  has  been  made  ;  and  shows, 
what  is  very  clear,  that  /n's  case  forms  one  of  the 
exceptions  there   mentioned,  inasmuch  as  he   is  a 


8S  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

duly  licensed  minister — licensed  in  the  parish — and 
therefore  entitled,  by  the  new  law  itself,  to  con- 
tinue religious  service  until  eight  o'clock ;  beyond 
which  hour,  even  the  accuser  testified,  those  exer- 
cises were  not  continued.  But  he  has  to  do  with 
men  who  do  not  scruple  to  make  the  law  bend  to 
their  own  bad  purposes  and  prejudices.  It  was 
predetermined  that  the  Methodist  preacher  should 
go  to  jail,  or  pay  a  fine  of  twenty  pounds  at  least ; 
and,  refusing  to  gratify  these  gentlemen  by  paying 
down  this  amount  of  his  own  or  the  Society's 
money,  to  jail  he  is  accordingly  sent,  committed 
by  S.  W.  Rose,  B.  W.  Smith,  and  David  Brydon — 
occupants,  if  not  ornaments,  of  the  bench — for 
"  teaching  and  preaching  to  slaves,  at  improper 
and  unlawful  hours,  contrary  to  the  true  intent  and 
meaning  of  the  law  now  in  force." 

In  the  custody  of  the  constable  the  missionary 
is  led  to  prison,  one  of  the  most  filthy  and  noisome 
of  all  the  loathsome  prisons  of  Jamaica.  The 
upper  story  of  the  jail  is  divided  into  four  apart- 
ments, two  of  which  are  used  as  the  parish  hos- 
pital, the  partition  walls  not  rising  to  the  ceiling, 
but  only  part  of  the  way,  and  surmounted  with 
open  lattice  work,  so  that  the  unwholesome  efflu- 
via from  the  hospital  float  freely  through  all  the 
apartments.  One  of  the  other  two  rooms  is  as- 
signed to  the  missionary,  while  the  second  is 
crowded  with  prisoners.  The  four  rooms  occupy 
a  space  of  thirty-five  feet  by  twenty-five.  Under- 
neath, and  separated  only  by  a  single-boarded  floor, 
are  cells  occupied  by  three  men  under  sentence  of 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  89 

death,  and  by  a  crowd  of  prisoners,  chiefly  negroes, 
who  are  awaiting  their  trial  foi  various  offenses 
at  the  quarter-sessions.  There  is  but  one  window 
to  the  missionary's  cell,  and  that  is  so  situated  as 
to  render  the  place  almost  intolerable.  It  is  only 
by  the  free  use  of  strong  camphorated  spirit  that 
he  can  overcome  the  nausea  with  which  he  is  as- 
sailed all  through  the  evening  and  the  night.  Ten 
long  nights  and  days  he  endures  this  cruel  con- 
finement, after  which  he  is  set  at  liberty,  with 
health  broken,  and  physical  energies  much  ex- 
hausted. As  it  is  the  blessed  Sabbath  he  bends 
his  footsteps  at  once  to  the  chapel,  not  far  distant, 
where,  enfeebled  as  he  is,  he  conducts  both  the 
public  services  of  the  day,  rejoicing,  with  his  af- 
flicted, sympathizing  flock,  in  the  grace  by  which 
he  has  been  sustained  while  suffering  for  his  Mas- 
ter's sake.  On  the  Monday  he  reaches  his  resi- 
dence at  Belmont.  Delightful  is  the  change  from 
that  dreary  prison  to  a  sweet  mountain  home,  and 
precious  are  the  fresh  and  fragrant  breezes  which 
greet  him  there,  where  many  sable  hundreds  tes- 
tify by  their  tears  the  deepest  condolence  with 
their  beloved  minister,  and  with  extravagant  dem- 
onstrations welcome  his  return  to  his  family  and 
to  them. 

Having  consented  to  abstain  from  preaching  in 
the  house  at  Ocho  Rios  until  the  quarter-sessions 
shall  afford  him  the  opportunity  of  having  the 
place  recorded  for  the  purpose,  he  refrains  from 
conducting  any  public  service  there,  willing  to 
conciliate  prejudice  by  submitting  for  a  season  to 

\ 


90  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

an  illegal  restriction.  At  the  proper  time  he  pre- 
sents himself  before  the  magistrates,  when  the 
ciistos,  who  presides  at  the  sessions,  and  another 
of  the  magistrates,  express  themselves  in  favor  of 
registering  the  house  at  Ocho  Rios,  and  granting 
the  certificate.  But  the  adverse  influence  of  the 
rector  has  been  at  work,  and  there  is  a  large  as- 
semblage of  magistrates  who  have  been  drawn  to 
join  the  ranks  of  the  persecutors,  and  have  come  to- 
gether for  the  sake  of  putting  down  the  Methodist 
preachers.  The  custos  is  outvoted,  and  the  court 
decides  upon  refusing  to  grant  any  certificate. 
This  amounts  to  a  decision  that  the  services  at 
Ocho  Rios,  which  have  continued  for  some  years, 
shall  be  brought  to  a  close,  and  the  people  in 
that  neighborhood  deprived  of  sacred  ordinances. 
The  missionary  is  a  man  of  meek  and  humble 
spirit,  but  also  of  courage.  He  is  satisfied  that 
these  men  have  no  legal  authority  for  what  they 
do,  and,  having  shown  his  respect  for  what  they 
choose  to  regard  as  law,  and  satisfied  the  Tolera- 
tion Act,  he  concludes  that  he  has  done  all  that 
Christian  duty  and  a  good  conscience  require  of 
him  in  the  matter.  And  now,  after  much  prayer, 
he  resolves  to  obey  God  rather  than  men,  and  to 
refuse  submission  to  a  cruel  intolerance  that  would 
leave  dark  multitudes  around  him  to  perish  in 
their  ignorance  and  sin.  Accordingly  he  resumes 
the  usual  services  all  through  the  circuit,  com- 
mending himself  and  his  cause  to  God,  and  calmly 
awaiting  the  result,  prepared  to  bring  to  a  legal 
test,   if  need  be,   the   authority   assumed  by  the 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  91 

magistrates  of  St.  Ann's.  For  some  weeks  he  is 
suffered  to  go  on  unmolested,  he  and  his  brethren 
earnestly  and  confidently  looking  forward  to  the 
time  when  his  majesty's  disallowance  of  the  per- 
secuting law  now  in  operation  shall  be  signified  to 
the  governor.  The  rector  and  the  magistrates 
also  have  some  fearful  anticipations  of  a  similar 
kind,  having  probably  received  through  the  agent 
in  London  some  intimation  of  the  doom  which  ig 
impending  at  the  Colonial  Office  over  this  offspring 
of  their  intolerance,  and  while  the  unrighteous  law 
is  still  operative,  they  resolve  to  strike  another 
blow.  One  day,  during  service  at  Ocho  Rios,  the 
missionary   and    congregation    see    the    repulsive 

countenance  of peering  into  the  chapel  and 

around  it.  This  is  justly  regarded  as  an  omen  of 
evil,  for  the  presence  of  that  man,  like  some  bird 
of  prey,  augurs  nothing  that  is  good.  No  one, 
therefore,  is  surprised  that  on  the  following  day 
the  missionary  finds  himself  again  in  the  custody 
of  this  spy,  to  be  carried  before  the  magistrates  on 
the  old  charge  of  preaching  to  slaves  in  an  unli- 
censed house,  with  the  additional  complaint  of 
having  married  one  slave  to  another  without  con- 
sent of  the  owner.  The  magistrates  are,  for  the 
most  part,  as  before,  pliant  and  illiterate  tools  of 
the  slaveholding  rector.  In  vain  the  prisoner 
pleads  that  he  has  done  all  the  law  requires,  and 
that,  the  house  being  certified,  it  is  the  fault  of 
the  magistrates  themselves  that  it  is  not  recorded, 
they  having  exercised  an  illegal  power  in  refusing 
his   application.     In  vain  he  pleads  that  he  has 


92  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

violated  no  law  by  marrying  the  slave  to  the  ob- 
ject of  her  choice,  since  none  exists  in  the  colony 
referring  to  marriage  at  all.  (He  might  have 
added  that,  until  the  missionaries  introduced  it, 
marriage  was  little  known  among  any  class  of  the 
people,  and  among  slaves  and  colored  people  quite 
unknown.)  As  in  the  former  case,  the  magistrates 
have  come  together  to  do  only  what  they  and  their 
friend  the  rector  had  already  resolved  upon,  and 
the  persecuted  servant  of  Christ  is  again  handed 
over  to  ruffianly  keeping,  and  taken  back  to  the 
same  unwholesome  cell  with  which  he  is  already 
familiar. 

The  place  is  indescribably  odious,  and  produces 
loathing,  which  he  seeks  to  counteract,  as  before, 
by  the  use  of  camphorated  spirit,  and  other  simi- 
lar means.  This  time  he  is  committed  for  trial  at 
the  sessions,  and  not  for  a  definite  term  of  impris- 
onment. Bail  is,  therefore,  sought  and  tendered 
for  his  appearance  before  the  court ;  but  difficul- 
ties are  thrown  in  the  way,  and  it  is  not  until  after 
the  lapse  of  several  days  that  the  bail  is  accepted, 
and  the  suffering  prisoner  set  at  liberty.  It  is, 
alas  !  too  late  to  save  his  life.  He  has  never  fully 
recovered  from  the  effects  of  his  former  imprison- 
ment. The  deadly  poison,  inhaled  during  ten 
days'  close  confineiiient,  is  still  lurking  in  his 
veins,  corrupting  the  vital  fluid,  and  weakening 
tlie  citadel  of  life ;  and  now,  every  hour  that  he 
breathes  that  polluted  atmosphere,  the  subtle 
venom  diffused  through  his  system  is  quickened 
into  activity,  his  strength  is  rapidly  diminishing, 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  93 

and  he  is  being  hurried  to  the  grave.     It  is,  doubt- 
less,  the  report   of  the   prisoner's   failing   health 
made  by  the  jailer  that  induces  the  magistrates 
to  accept  the  proffered  bail.     Had  he  remained 
within  those  prison  walls  a  day  or  two  longer  he 
would  scarcely  have  survived  to  pass  through  the 
gates.     As  it  is,  more  serious  effects  than  those  of 
many  years  of  wasting  toil  have  been  produced  by 
a  few  days'  imprisonment.     Faint  and  exhausted, 
and  almost  dying,  he  is  borne  back  to  his  mount- 
ain home,  to  leave  it  no  more  till  he  ascends  to 
that  better  home  above,  "  the  palace  of  angels  and 
God."     The  cool  and  balmy  air  of  the  uplands  re- 
vives him  a  little,  and  for  a  short  time  he  seems 
likely  to  rally ;  but  the  seeds  of  fatal  disease  are 
within  him,  and  the  king  of  terrors  has  been  per- 
mitted to   mark   him    as  his  prey.      The  poison 
which  has  undermined  all  the   powers  of  life   is 
developed  in  a  lingering  fever,  such  as  no  medical 
skill  can  check,  and  it  soon  becomes  evident  to 
his  weeping  young  wife  that  she  must  shortly  be  a 
widow,  and  her  infant   fatherless.      Friends  sur- 
round the  bed  of  death,  and  do  all  that  love  can 
dictate  for  the  relief  of  the  sufferer.     At  intervals, 
when  delirium  ceases,  he  speaks  sweetly  of  the  all- 
sufficiency  of  Divine  grace,  and  the  preciousness 
of  the  sprinkled  blood,  until  on  the  fifteenth  day, 
waving  his  hand  in  triumph,  and  with  a  counte- 
nance all  radiant,  this  witness  for  the  Lord,  while 
yet  in  the  prime  of  youthful  manhood,  passes  to 
the   blessed  spirit-land,  to   be   numbered  among 
those  glorified  ones  who  have  resisted  unto  blood, 


94  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  counted  not  their  lives  dear  unto  themselves, 
so  that  they  might  finish  their  course  with  joy.  On 
the  following  day,  amid  the  tears  and  lamentations 
of  white  and  black,  bond  and  free,  the  deserted 
clay  is  laid  in  that  lowly  grave,  which  afterward 
discolored  by  time,  met  the  eye  of  the  traveler  amid 
the  ruins  of  the  mission  station  at  Belmont. 

These  things  might  not  have  been  had  it  pleased 
unerring  Providence  to  spare  the  life  of  the  Chris- 
tian owner  of  these  broad  lands.  But  that  good 
man  has  been  sleejDing  in  his  family  vault  nearly  a 
year,  and  his  ransomed  spirit  is  enjoying  an  end- 
less rest.  Methodism  found  him  "  floating  upon 
a  sea  of  skepticism,"  believing  nothing,  fearing 
every  thing,  and  proving  the  bitter  truth  of  those 
words  of  heavenly  wisdom,  though  he  knew  them 
not,  "  The  wicked  are  like  the  troubled  sea,  when 
it  cannot  rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and 
dirt."  The  first  sermon  he  heard  from  a  mission- 
ary's lips,  (on  John  iii,  3,)  before  he  sought  the 
interview  related  in  the  foregoing  pages,  made  a 
deep  impression  on  his  heart.  Through  God's 
blessing  upon  it  that  discourse  let  in  a  flood  of 
light,  altogether  new,  on  his  bewildered  mind.  It 
reached  his  conscience,  and  awakened  it  to  an 
activity  long  unknown.  It  produced  what  he  had 
never  felt  or  imagined  before — 

"  The  godly  fear,  the  pleasing  smart, 
The  meltings  of  a  broken  heart." 

And  soon  his  doubts  were  solved,  and  all  the  dark 
clouds  of  skepticism  dispersed,  when  he  came,  a 


The  Martyr-  Alissionary.  95 

self-condemned  sinner,  to  Jesus,  and  by  simple 
faith  obtained  "redemption  through  his  blood, 
even  the  forgiveness  of  sins."  At  once  he  took 
active  part  in  the  Lord's  service.  Defying  re- 
proach and  opposition,  he  opened  the  way  for  the 
establishment  of  a  mission  station  in  the  parish 
Avhere  he  lived,  rejoiced  over  the  conversion  of 
his  wife  and  daughter  and  the  Christian  instruc- 
tion of  his  slaves,  became  himself  a  devoted  class- 
leader  and  local  preacher,  gave  land  and  timber 
for  mission  buildings  on  his  own  estate,  and  also 
at  St.  Ann's  Bay,  and  boldly  vindicated  the  truth 
which  had  been  to  him  "  the  power  of  God  unto 
salvation  "  both  in  the  pulpit  and  with  the  pen,* 
as  well  as  by  the  silent,  powerful  eloquence  of  a 
blameless,  benevolent,  and  holy  life.  How  in- 
scrutable is  the  Providence  which  took  away  such 
a  man  at  such  a  time !  Had  his  life  been  pro- 
longed he  would  have  stood  by  the  persecuted 
missionary,  and  there  is  little  doubt  that  his  influ- 
ence in  the  parish,  as  a  magistrate  greatly  respect- 
ed, added  to  his  eminent  legal  ability,  would  have 
been  more  than  a  match  for  the  cunning  of  the  rec- 
tor and  all  his  associates.     He  had  been  failing  in 

*  Mr.  Drew  was  the  author  of  a  well- written  work,  in  two 
octavo  volumes,  entitled,  "  Principles  of  Self-knowledge  ;  or, 
an  Attempt  to  Demonstrate  the  Truth  of  Christianity,  and  the 
Efficacy  of  Experimental  Religion,  against  the  Cavils  of  the 
Infidel  and  the  Objections  of  the  Formalist."  These  volumes 
passed  through  the  press  under  the  supervision  of  the  well- 
known  Samuel  Drew,  A.M.,  but  their  author  did  not  live  to 
see  them  in  print. 


96  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

vigor  for  some  time,  but  the  wicked  outrage  by 
which  it  was  attempted  to  destroy  the  lives  of  Mr. 
Ratclifife  and  his  family  at  St.  Ann's  Bay,  by 
means  of  a  gang  of  ruffians,  had  called  forth  all 
Mr.  Drew's  energies  to  trace  and  bring  to  punish- 
ment the  lawless  band,  some  of  whom  were  well 
known.  Having,  in  his  capacity  of  magistrate,  set 
matters  in  train  for  a  thorough  investigation,  he 
returned  home,  but  it  was  to  die,  his  exertions 
having  probably  exceeded  what  his  sinking  health 
could  endure.  Before  the  inquiry  could  be  pushed 
to  any  important  result  his  little  remaining  strength 
finally  gave  way,  and,  to  the  grief  of  the  mission- 
aries, and  the  still  deeper  distress  of  his  excellent 
wife  and  family,  he  passed  away  in  blessed  triumph 
to  the  Church  before  the  throne.  Just  before  he 
had  put  forth  literally  a  dying  effort  in  singing 
the  beautiful  words — 

"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives, 

And  ever  prays  for  me  ; 
A  token  of  his  love  he  gives, 

A  pledge  of  liberty." 

Among  other  utterances  on  his  death  bed,  he 
said  to  one  of  the  missionaries,  who  was  express- 
ing his  regret  that  one  so  useful  should  be  taken 
away  at  such  a  crisis,  "  I  am  but  a  poor  worm  ; 
there  is  no  room  for  boasting.  I  cannot  look  to 
any  thing  that  I  have  done.  The  whole  science 
of  divinity  is  compressed  into  a  very  narrow  com- 
pass: 

"  *  I  the  chief  of  sinners  am, 
But  Jesus  died  for  me  ! '  " 


Tlie  Martyr  Missionary.  97 

Mr.  Drew  has  left  behind  him  a  family  of  chil- 
dren, and  a  widow  like-minded  with  himself,  who 
enters  fully  into  all  the  plans  of  large-hearted  be- 
nevolence which  he  formed  and  partly  executed. 
A  lady  of  energetic  and  well-cultivated  mind,  she 
carries  on,  with  excellent  results,  the  management 
of  the  estate.  But  how  dark  and  inexplicable  are 
God's  ways  !  Only  one  short  year  has  elapsed 
since  the  martyred  Grimsdall  was  laid  in  his 
"narrow  cell"  —  two  years  since  her  husband 
ascended  to  the  skies — when,  after  a  brief  illness, 
this  excellent  lady  is  summoned  to  rejoin  her  be- 
loved companion  in  the  better  land,  and  an  orphan 
family  is  left  to  deplore  an  irreparable  loss.  When 
this  new  affliction  occurs  persecution  is  still  rag- 
ing, and  the  rector  and  magistrates,  stung  almost 
to  madness  by  the  disallowance  of  their  malevo- 
lent "  slave  law,"  are  imprisoning  missionaries, 
and  stretching  their  authority  b^ond  all  bounds 
in  defiance  alike  of  justice  and  of  law.  The  pain- 
ful bereavement  meanwhile  brings  a  still  darker 
cloud  over  the  prospects  of  the  mission,  and  gives 
the  rector  fresh  opportunities  of  pursuing  his  de- 
signs. The  estate  and  affairs  of  Belmont  (the 
children  being  mostly  young)  fall  into  the  hands 
of  an  executor  or  trustee  who  has  no  sympathy 
with  the  religious  views  of  Mr.  Drew.  Had  the 
excellent  widow's  life  been  prolonged  until  all  her 
children  attained  their  majority  (the  thing  too 
fondly  anticipated)  there  is  little  doubt  that  they 
would  have  become  parties  to  the  deed  of  con- 
veyance required  for  finally  securing  the  land  on 


r 


98  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

which  the  mission  premises  were  erected,  both  at 
Behnont  and  St.  Ann's  Bay.  But,  unhappily,  an 
opportunity  is  now  presented  for  reclaiming  the 
land  and  driving  the  "  sectarians  "  from  the  parish, 
a  chance  which  may  not  be  allowed  to  pass  away 
unimproved.  The  land  is  of  little  intrinsic  value, 
and  there  would  be  no  unwillingness  to  indemnify 
the  estate  held  on  trust  for  the  children's  benefit 
by  giving  compensation  to  the  largest  amount  at 
which  it  could  be  fairly  appraised.  But  the 
trustee  is  fully  under  the  influence  of  the  rector, 
who  will  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less  than  wrest- 
ing the  property  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Method- 
ists. The  premises  have  now  become  valuable, 
for  many  hundreds  of  pounds,  contributed  partly 
by  the  poor  slaves  from  what  their  small  provision 
grounds  have  yielded,  but  chiefly  by  the  Society 
in  London,  have  been  expended  in  erecting  those 
neat  and  commodious  buildings — chapel,  dwelling, 
etc. — which  adorn  the  station.  But  what  cares 
that  man  (minister  of  a  just  and  holy  religion 
though  he  professes  to  be)  for  the  unrighteousness 
of  laying  violent  hands  on  the  property  of  others 
to  which  the  estate  could  have  no  moral  claim  ? 
If  the  religious  services  there  instituted  for  the 
good  of  the  negroes  can  be  broken  up  he  will  re- 
joice as  one  that  findeth  great  spoil 

The  demand  to  vacate  and  give  up  the  mission 
property,  chapels,  residence  and  all,  both  at  Bel- 
mont and  St.  Ann's  Bay,  is  in  due  course  made. 
Before  that  is  complied  with  the  best  legal  advice 
to  be  had  in  the  island  is  taken,  and  the  conclu- 


\ 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  99 

sion  is  reached,  that  it  is  most  advisable,  on  the 
whole,  not  to  risk  in  costs  of  uncertain  litigation 
money  which  may  afford  material  help  in  provid- 
ing other  places  of  worship.  To  the  very  deep 
sorrow  of  hundreds,  the  beautiful  station  at  Bel- 
mont, and  the  premises  at  St.  Ann's  Bay,  are  ulti- 
mately abandoned. 

But  the  chief  designs  of  the  persecutors  are  not 
accomplished,  nor  is  the  work  of  the  Lord  entirely 
frustrated.  The  poor  people,  hundreds  of  whom 
were  "  born  for  glory  "  on  that  spot,  having  there 
heard  the  joyful  sound  of  that  truth  which  makes 
men  spiritually  free,  weep  and  mourn  over  the 
loss  of  their  pleasant  sanctuary,  and  of  some  of  the 
means  of  grace ;  but  the  mission  is  not  broken  up, 
as  its  enemies  confidently  expected.  The  great 
Head  of  the  Church  raises  up  instruments  suited 
to  the  accomplishment  of  his  own  purposes.  So  it 
is  in  this  case.  The  martyred  Grimsdall  has  been 
succeeded  by  a  missionary  not  easily  daunted  or 
discouraged.  With  quiet  yet  earnest  resolution, 
ready  to  endure  or  to  do  any  thing  the  occasion  may 
require,  he  confronts  the  opposers,  and  addresses 
himself  to  the  emergency  of  this  case,  cheering 
the  hearts  of  the  suffering  people,  not  only  to  the 
point  of  patient  endurance,  but  of  joyful  hope. 
After  some  difficulty  he  succeeds  in  obtaining  for 
hire  a  house  (or,  rather,  what  looks  very  much 
like  the  half  of  a  house  which  has  been  cut  in  two) 
called  "  Blackheath,"  within  two  or  three  miles  of 
Belmont.  It  is  sufficient  for  the  accommodation 
of  his  own  family,  but  not  to  receive  the  large 
7 


joo         RoMAN'CE  Without  Fiction. 

congregation  wont  to  assemble  in  the  chapel.  In 
the  adjacent  pasture,  however,  there  are  majestic 
trees,  whose  wide-spreading  branches  afford  a 
delightful  protection  from  the  scorching  sun-rays. 
And  here,  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  the  people  as- 
semble, bond  and  free ;  not  discouraged,  though 
a  heavy  shower,  such  ag  Europeans  seldom  witness, 
sometimes  sends  them  dripping  to  their  homes. 
The  surrounding  hills  echo  with  their  songs  of 
praise;  and,  sitting  all  around  the  minister  upon 
the  grass,  they  listen  with  moist  and  eager  eyes  to 
the  truth  that  saves.  The  novelty  of  this  open 
field  worship,  and  the  sympathy  felt  with  the  con- 
gregation driven  from  its  place  of  worship,  bring 
additional  numbers  from  all  the  country  round  to 
attend  these  pleasant  services,  and  the  power  of 
Jehovah  is  there  to  slay  and  to  save.  Beneath 
the  thick  branches  of  those  fine  cedars,  many 
hearts  are  pierced  with  conviction  of  sin,  and  not 
a  few  are  brought  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
children  of  God.  It  is  a  reanimating  scene;  one 
of  great  rural  beauty,  and  of  more  than  earthly 
grandeur  ;  a  scene  over  which  seraphs  might  hover 
with  ecstatic  joy.  There  is  a  congregation  large- 
ly made  up  of  negro  slaves,  in  clean  but  humble 
apparel,  bowing  before  God,  and  learning  the  way 
to  heaven.  Words  cannot  describe  the  eager  at- 
tention with  which  they  listen  as  the  missionary 
expatiates,  with  thrilling  eloquence,  on  the  words, 
"  What  meanest  thoa,  O  sleeper  ?  arise,  call 
upon  thy  God,  if  so  be  that  God  will  think  upon 
us,   that    we   perish   not."  Jonah    i,    6.     It  is   no 


The  Martyr  Missionary.  loi 

fancy  sketch.  These  eyes  beheld  it;  and  these 
ears  listened  there  to  a  much-loved  friend  who 
discoursed  on  the  text  just  cited,  while  *'  thoughts 
that  breathe,  and  words  that  burn,"  fell  from  lips 
now  hushed  in  the  silence  of  the  grave. 

In  process  of  time  the  ejected  congregation 
obtain,  through  the  liberality  of  English  friends, 
the  gift  of  a  large  tent,  which  is  erected  there  in 
the  pasture,  affording  shelter  to  as  many  as  its 
dimensions  will  accommodate,  when  the  clouds 
drop  their  fatness  upon  the  earth.  The  persecu- 
tors have  the  mortification  of  seeing  that  the  work 
they  hate  goes  on  more  prosperously  than  ever. 
It  becomes  necessary  to  divide  the  congregation, 
for  they  gather  in  crowds  from  places  miles  dis- 
tant on  either  side.  Divine  Providence  opens  the 
way.  Land  is  offered  for  sale  in  favorable  locali- 
ties. Two  beautiful  and  convenient  sites  are  pro- 
cured, just  in  the  midst  of  the  people,  some  six  or 
seven  miles  apart.  It  is  no  discouragement  that 
for  many  months  the  divided  congregation  has  to 
worship  one  part  in  the  field,  the  other  part  in  the 
forest,  canopied  by  giant  trees,  until  the  arrange- 
ments for  building  are  completed.  At  length, 
through  the  liberal  contributions  of  the  people  on 
the  spot,  and  of  friends  of  missions  in  England, 
two  neat,  commodious,  and  substantial  houses  of 
prayer  are  reared,  capable  of  containing  at  least 
three  times  as  many  as  the  desecrated  sanctuary 
at  Belmont.  Thus  God,  in  his  boundless  wisdom, 
evolves  good  out  of  the  evil,  and  makes  the  wrath 
of  man  to  praise  him.     Near  the  larger  of  these 


102        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

two  mountain  sanctuaries  stands  the  missionary's 
comfortable  residence.  The  principal  road  through 
the  island  gracefully  winds  round  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  passing  between  the  mission  house  and  chapel ; 
while  the  rural  station,  and  the  numerous  cottages 
of  the  emancipated  peasantry  thickly  studding 
the  neighborhood  all  around,  add  new  and  lively 
features  to  a  most  beautiful  landscape. 

But  Belmont  has  gone  to  ruin.  After  the  change 
of  management  it  soon  ceased  to  be  the  prosperous, 
productive  estate  it  had  been.  Its  rich  herds  of 
cattle  no  longer  yielded  any  remunerative  return  ; 
the  pasture  walls  became  dilapidated,  and  were 
suffered  to  remain  without  repair;  and  the  fine 
stone  buildings  fell  into  decay.  But  God  has 
taken  care  of  the  orphan  children.  Of  the  chapel, 
in  the  rearing  of  which  so  many  hearts  were  glad- 
dened, there  are  now  only  fragments.  How  different 
it  was  when  hallowed  as  the  place  where  Jehovah 
Jesus  was  worshiped !  How  different  it  might 
Have  been  still !  Such  are  the  thoughts  of  the 
missionary  visitor  as,  awaking  from  the  long  rev- 
erie in  which  he  has  been  indulging,  he  observes 
that  the  shades  of  evening  are  gathering  darkly 
around  him.  Mounting  his  horse,  and  casting 
one  more  look  upon  the  ruin,  he  turns  away  with 
saddened,  chastened,  grateful  feeling,  and  bids  a 
last  farewell  to  the  grave  of  the  martyred 

MISSIONARY. 


Judgment  Hill.  103 


IV. 

Judgraent  Hill. 

Oft  o'er  the  Eden  islands  of  the  West, 

In  floral  pomp  and  verdant  beauty  drest, 

Rolls  the  dark  cloud  of  God's  awakened  ire ; 

Thunder  and  earthquake,  whirlwind,  flood,  and  fire, 

'Midst  rcpUng  mountains  and  disparting  plains, 

Tell  the  pale  world,  "  The  God  of  vengeance  reigns." 

MONTQOMEKY. 


(>o 


fN  the  interior  of  Jamaica,  at  no  great  distance 
from  Kingston,  the  mercantile  capital  of  the 
island,  a  spot  is  pointed  out  which  bears  the 
remarkable  designation  "  The  Judgment  Hill,' 
from  having  been  a  little  more  than  a  half  a  cen- 
tury ago  the  scene  of  a  startling  catastrophe, 
which  impressed  many  persons,  who  were  but  little 
accustomed  to  any  thing  like  serious  reflection, 
with  the  conviction  that  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to 
brave  the  anger,  and  "  fall  into  the  hands,  of  the 
living  God." 

In  the  more  easterly  of  the  parishes  into  which 
Jamaica  is  divided  there  are  several  wide  river- 
courses,  which  collect  and  bear  to  the  ocean  the 
drainings  of  the  majestic  chain  of  mountains  that 
lift  their  summits  some  seven  or  eight  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  Caribbean  Sea,  which 
they  overlook,  and  from  which  they  are  often, 
clearly  visible  to  mariners  at  a  distance  of  seventy 


104  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

or  eighty  miles.  One  of  these  rivers,  receiving  the 
waterfall  on  the  southern  slope  of  the  Port  Royal 
and  St.  David's  mountains,  flows  in  a  south-easterly 
direction  for  more  than  thirty  miles.  Ordinarily, 
in  dry  weather,  the  narrow  stream  of  limpid  water, 
formed  by  the  contributions  of  many  rivulets 
gurgling  down  the  hollows  and  ravines  between 
the  hills,  rushes  with  rapid  current  over  the  stony 
bottom  of  the  deep  channel,  sufficiently  shallow  to 
be  fordable  at  numerous  points,  and  leaving  a 
large  portion  of  the  river  bed  perfectly  dry.  But 
the  immense  boulders,  and  masses  of  smooth  rock, 
scattered  in  vast  numbers  over  the  wide,  gravelly 
bed  of  the  river,  being  brought  down  by  the  force 
of  the  stream,  and  the  torn  and  rugged  banks  on 
either  side,  bear  silent  witness  to  the  irresistible 
power  with  which,  in  the  wet  season,  the  mighty 
mass  of  turbid  water,  swollen  by  a  thousand  rush- 
ing torrents,  rolls  on  to  its  destination. 

Among  the  hills  through  which  this  river  winds, 
and  stretching  along  its  banks,  there  is  a  planta- 
tion beautifully  situated  in  a  curve  formed  by  the 
sinuosities  of  its  course.  The  rich,  Avell-tilled 
fields  of  the  plantation,  waving  with  the  luxuriant 
sugar-cane,  occupy  the  plain  between  the  deep 
river-course  and  the  foot  of  the  hills.  At  a  little 
distance  from  the  stream,  the  buildings  pertaining 
to  the  estate  have  been  erected.  Prominent 
among  these  is  the  great  house  occupied  by  the 
proprietor  and  his  family  ;  and  scattered  around 
are  the  miserable  huts  of  the  slaves,  upon  whom 
devolves  the  weary,  unrequited  task  of  cultivating 


yiidgmcnt  Hill.  105 

for  their  owner  several  hundred  acres  of  land 
which  the  estate  comprises  ;  themselves  shut  up 
in  densest  ignorance,  and  knowing  no  enjoyment 
of  life  but  that  which  they  have  in  common  with 
the  mules  and  cattle,  that  share  with  them  the 
wasting  toil  of  the  plantation. 

Immediately  behind  these  several  buildings 
there  towers  a  lofty  mountain,  rising  precipitately 
from  the  gentle  slopes  whereon  the  buildings  stand, 
lifting  its  verdure-crowned  head  nearly  a  thousand 
feet  to  the  clouds,  and  overshadowing  the  planta- 
tion buildings  and  the  river.  All  kinds  of  rich 
tropical  fruits,  sheltered  here  from  every  unkindly 
blast,  flourish  in  abundance,  the  mango,  the  orange, 
the  shaddock,  the  star-apple,  and  the  lime.  Every 
hut  is  embowered  in  a  grove  of  plantains  and 
bananas,  whose  large  velvet-like  leaves  afford  a 
grateful  shelter  from  the  sun  ;  while  the  lofty  plume 
of  the  cocoa-nut  waves  in  graceful  beauty  above, 
and  imparts  to  the  whole  scene  a  character  of  trop- 
ical luxuriance  with  which  we  may  well  associate 
the  idea  of  an  earthly  paradise. 

Satan  and  sin  obtained  admission  into  Eden, 
and  they  have  found  an  entrance  here.  Ungodli- 
ness and  vice,  in  some  of  their  foulest  develop- 
ments, pervade  the  colony ;  darkness  prevails 
every-where,  except  where  the  few  missionaries 
that  are  laboring  in  the  midst  of  much  hatred  and 
opposition  have  diffused,  in  some  measure,  the 
light  of  the  ever-blessed  Gospel.  All  classes, 
masters  and  slaves,  whites  and  blacks,  are  sunk  in 
deep  moral  debasement  together.     But  in  this  se- 


io6        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

eluded  plantation,  surrounded  as  it  is  with  scenes 
of  surpassing  natural  loveliness,  there  is  a  den  of 
vice  and  pollution,  to  which  no  parallel  can  be 
found  in  all  this  wicked  land.  A  monster  of 
wickedness,  who  has  given  himself  up  to  work  all 
uncleanness  with  greediness,  the  owner  of  that 
lovely  spot,  has  converted  it  into  such  a  sink  of 
loathsome,  nameless  depravity,  that  all  the  neigh- 
bors for  miles  around  stand  aloof  from  him  and  all 
that  pertain  to  him,  and  hold  no  avoidable  com- 
munication with  the  place.  It  is  shunned  by  all 
classes  of  the  people,  as  if  a  deadly  pestilence  were 
known  to  be  raging  there. 

In  no  country  under  heaven  is  there  to  be  found 
less  of  every  thing  like  prudery  than  here  in  Ja- 
maica. The  moral  standard  is  deplorably  low; 
and  vicious,  licentious  habits,  disregard  of  moral 
obligations,  and  forgetfulness  of  God,  are  prevalent 
throughout  the  land.  But  here  is  a  household  so 
utterly  abandoned  and  vile  in  their  associations 
and  habits  that  even  the  low  degraded  society  of 
Jamaica  scorns  them  as  its  outcasts,  and  turns 
away  from  them  with  loathing.  No  planter  from 
the  surrounding  estates  calls  to  take  a  friendly 
glass  with  the  overseer,  who  is  also  the  owner  of 
the  plantation.  No  neighbor  goes  to  render 
friendly  offices  in  time  of  sickness ;  and  even  the 
medical  man,  who  periodically  visits  the  hot-house 
(the  hospital)  of  the  estates,  and  prescribes 
medicine  for  the  slaves  disabled  by  sickness  from 
taking  their  usual  place  in  the  field,  lingers  not, 
as  he  does  on  all  the  other  plantations  he  attends, 


Judgment  Hill.  107 

to  dine  or  hold  a  carouse  with  the  magnate  of  the 
estate. 

Year  after  year  passes  away,  but  still  the  man 
and  his  estate  are  shunned ;  for  the  lapse  of  time 
only  serves  to  develop  more  and  more  the  God- 
defying  wickedness  which  is  not  only  practiced 
but  boasted  of  there  ;  awakening  more  and  more 
fully  the  indignation  and  disgust  of  all  around  to- 
ward the  depraved  denizens  of  that  secluded 
habitation,  among  whom  all  decency  and  propriety 
are  set  at  naught,  and  the  natural  relations  and 
distinctions  known  in  families  are  utterly  con- 
founded and  lost.  There  are  some  who  look  on 
the  place  with  fear  and  trembling,  as  well  as 
loathing  ;  half  expecting  that  this  den  of  wicked- 
ness, with  its  associations  of  depravity,  will  be 
dealt  with  in  some  such  way  as  the  Just  and  Holy 
One  dealt  with  the  guilty  inhabitants  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah. 

The  owner  of  the  plantation  has  become  hoary 
in  his  evil  career,  and  wealth  has  been  increasing 
in  his  hands,  serving  only  to  promote  strife  and 
discord  among  the  incestuous  brood  of  which  he 
is  the  head ;  when  the  hand  of  Jehovah  is  lifted 
up,  and  that  event  occurs,  the  memorial  of  which 
is  handed  down  in  the  designation  that  stands  at 
the  head  of  this  paper. 

Jamaica  has  often  been  fearfully  desolated  by 
the  hurricane  and  the  earthquake,  causing  a 
lamentable  destruction  of  property  and  life,  and 
sometimes  throughout  vast  districts  changing  the 
whole  aspect  of  the  country.     It  was  on  the  i8th 


io8         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  19th  of  October,  one  of  the  months  usually  in- 
cluded in  what  is  known  as  the  hurricane  season, 
when  a  destructive  storm  swept  over  the  eastern 
parishes  of  the  island,  accompanied,  as  effects 
would  seem  to  indicate,  by  severe  shocks  of  earth- 
quake. A  preternatural  discharge  of  water  from 
the  heavens  destroyed  many  sugar  and  coffee  plan- 
tations, sweeping  off  all  vegetation,  or  burying  it, 
to  the  depth  of  many  feet,  beneath  the  earth  and 
stones  and  sand  which  the  descending  torrents 
wash  down  from  the  neighboring  mountains. 
The  swollen  rivers  overflowed  their  banks,  the 
rushing  waters  bearing  all  before  them,  and  pro- 
ducing a  scene  of  devastation,  extending  from 
shore  to  shore  over  a  length  of  fifty  miles,  that 
defies  all  description.  Many  vessels  were  stranded 
on  the  coast ;  and  upon  the  land  the  victims  of 
this  struggle  of  the  elements,  who  had  the  good 
fortune  to  escape  with  life,  lost  all  their  property. 
The  descent  of  huge  masses  of  earth  and  rock 
from  the  sides  of  the  hills  could  be  compared  only 
to  the  avalanches  in  the  valleys  of  the  Alps;  and 
the  features  of  the  country  were  so  materially  al- 
tered by  the  dynamic  sweep  of  the  floods,  rivers, 
and  water-courses,  and  all  well-known  landmarks 
so  entirely  obliterated,  that  survivors  found  great 
difiiculty  in  ascertaining,  with  any  thing  like  cer- 
tainty, the  true  localities  which  they  were  entitled 
to  call  their  own.  This  difficulty  was  modified 
by  the  great  destruction  of  life  occasioned 
by  the  hurricane;  whole  families  being  swept 
away,   leaving    no    survivor    to    raise   a   question 


Judgment  Hill.  109 

concerning  the  titles  and  boundaries  of  their 
property. 

This  is  the  case  with  the  fine  plantation  occupy- 
ing so  pleasant  a  site  near  the  margin  of  the  river, 
and  converted  into  such  a  scene  of  impurity  and 
wickedness  by  the  abandoned  family  claiming  it 
as  their  home.  The  morning  of  the  day  on  which 
this  appalling  calamity  passes  over  the  land  finds 
them,  as  many  mornings  have  found  them,  all  care- 
less and  secure,  without  a  thought  of  God,  and 
without  any  idea  of  danger  hovering  near.  Exten- 
sive fields  are  waving  with  the  ripening  canes. 
Trees  laden  with  luscious  fruit  are  all  around. 
Large  bunches  of  cocoa-nuts  in  every  stage  of 
growth  hang  from  the  ever-fruitful  trees,  which,  by 
their  continual  productiveness,  may  well  symbolize 
the  Tree  of  Life  in  the  vision  of  the  apocalyptic 
writer,  that  yielded  her  fruit  every  month.  The 
white  buildings  of  the  estate  peep  out  through  the 
openings  of  the  trees,  as  with  gentle,  graceful  mo- 
tion they  yield  to  the  pressure  of  the  slightest 
movement  of  the  air ;  the  whole  landscape,  with 
its  alternations  of  hill  and  dale,  exhibiting  a  scene 
of  bright  beauty,  to  be  seen  nowhere  but  in  the 
regions  situated  within  or  near  to  the  tropical 
lines.  The  next  morning  breaks  upon  a  scene  of 
desolation,  exhibiting  no  traces  of  the  earthly 
paradise  on  which  the  sun  shed  his  fervent  rays 
only  a  few  hours  before. 

It  has  been  swept  with  the  besom  of  destruction, 
and  the  plantation,  with  its  buildings,  its  culti- 
vated fields  and  fruitful  groves,  its  slaves  and  cat- 


no         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

tie,  whose  toil  extracted  richness  and  wealth  from 
the  soil,  together  with  the  great  house  and  all  its 
miserable  inhabitants,  have  been  blotted  from  the 
face  of  the  creation.  The  overthrow  is  as  com- 
plete as  that  which  overwhelmed  the  polluted 
cities  of  the  plain.  No  living  creature  belonging 
to  the  place  remains  to  tell  the  tale  of  woe,  and 
scarcely  a  vestige  of  the  once  lovely  estate  is  to 
be  found. 

The  center  of  the  hurricane  has  passed  over  this 
vicinity,  and  its  utmost  violence  has  fallen  upon 
the  spot  where  the  justice  and  purity  of  the  Al- 
mighty has  long  been  daringly  outraged.  The 
fair,  cloudless,  but  oppressively  sultry  morning 
has  been  followed  by  the  gathering  of  thick  black 
banks  of  cloud  upon  the  eastern  sky,  and  the  om- 
inous moaning  of  the  wind,  betokening  the  coming 
tempest — signs  too  well  understood  by  the  inhab- 
itants of  tropical  regions.  As  the  sun  slowly  de- 
scends to  the  westward  these  precursors  of  coming 
evil  become  more  decided  and  unmistakable,  and 
at  length  the  tornado  bursts  upon  the  land  in  all 
its  desolating  fury,  a  violence  which  can  only  be 
justly  appreciated  by  those  who  have  witnessed  a 
West  India  hurricane.  The  danger  is  aggravated 
by  the  dense  darkness  of  the  night.  Many  are 
crushed  beneath  their  falling  dwellings,  while 
numbers  of  lives  are  sacrificed  in  the  attempt  to 
gain  through  rushing  torrents  some  desired  place 
of  refuge. 

But  a  peculiar  catastrophe  seals  the  fate  of  this 
plantation  and    its   inhabitants.      That  to  which 


yudgmejit  Hill.  ill 

they  probably  looked  for  safety  becomes  their 
destruction.  Snugly  sheltered  beneath  the  shad- 
ows of  the  lofty  mountain,  they  might  well  fancy 
themselves  far  less  exposed  to  peril  than  many  of 
their  neighbors,  whose  habitations  were  open  to 
the  utmost  fury  of  the  elements.  But  uplifted  by 
some  invisible  force  —  probably  the  stupendous 
power  of  the  earthquake  —  during  the  midnight 
darkness,  the  mountain  is  moved  from  its  founda- 
tions and  thrown  prostrate  in  wild  confusion  on 
the  plain  and  into  the  river,  burying  beneath  its 
enormous  masses  every  building  of  the  plantation, 
and  every  soul  existing  upon  it.  They,  and  all 
belonging  to  them,  have  disappeared  from  human 
ken,  as  if  they  had  never  been  ;  as  when  God,  in 
his  anger,  caused  the  earth  to  open  her  mouth  and 
swallow  up  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram  ;  and  their 
houses,  and  all  that  appertained  unto  them,  went 
down  into  the  pit,  and  the  earth  closed  upon  them, 
and  they  perished  miserably.  So  were  this  planter 
and  his  family,  and  all  his  goods,  buried  in  a  mo- 
ment out  of  sight  of  men,  their  immortal  spirits 
passing  suddenly  to  an  unchanging  doom,  with  all 
their  sins  and  pollutions  fresh  upon  them. 

To  make  the  destruction  more  complete,  the 
fallen  mountain  dammed  up  the  river,  already 
swollen  to  overflowing,  until  the  mass  of  accumu- 
lated waters,  forcing  their  own  way,  and  making 
fresh  channels  for  themselves,  bear  away  in  their 
desolating  progress  whatever  the  hurricane  has 
failed  to  destroy.  When  morning  dawns  through 
the  still  raging  tempest  not  a  living  creature  re- 


112         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

mains ;  every  trace  of  cultivation  has  disappeared, 
and  the  very  outlines  of  the  plantation  have  been 
so  completely  obliterated  that  it  is  difficult  to  tell 
exactly  where  it  lay.  All  belonging  to  the  estate 
that  is  not  buried  beneath  the  upturned  mountain 
has  been  borne  far  away  by  the  flood  to  the  Carib 
bean  Sea,  except  some  carcases  of  human  beings 
or  beasts  lodged  in  crevices  or  bushes  by  the 
rushing  waters  on  their  course,  and  left  there  to 
become  the  prey  of  the  ravenous  vulture. 

**  I  will  make  thy  grave;  for  thou  art  vile,"  Je- 
hovah said  when  Nineveh  was  rapidly  filling  up 
the  measure  of  her  iniquities ;  and  beneath  the 
crumbling  earth  of  her  own  massive  walls  and 
palaces  he  buried  the  city  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  so  much  that  was  abominable  in  his  sight. 
And  there,  hidden  in  the  dust  from  all  human 
search,  she  remained  during  the  lapse  of  many 
centuries,  thus  fulfilling  his  own  faithful  word  : 
"  The  wicked  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  earth,  and 
the  transgressors  shall  be  rooted  out  of  it."  So  in 
this  instance,  after  many  years  of  longsufifering  and 
forbearance,  his  hand  is  lifted  up  against  the  evil- 
doers, and  overwhelms  them  with  such  manifest 
tokens  of  a  divine  visitation  that  even  in  Jamaica, 
where  there  is  little  recognition  of  God,  his  justice 
in  the  event  is  acknowledged,  and  the  scene  of  the 
catastrophe  is  distinguished  by  the  designation  of 
Judgment  Hill. 


Tke  Assassin.  113 


V. 

The  Assassin. 

Blood  hath  strange  organs  to  (liscourae  withal; 

It  is  a  clam'rous  orator,  and  then 

E'en  nature  will  exceed  herself  to  tell 

A  crime  so  thwarting  nature, — Gomessall. 

jURING  seventeen  years  that  I  spent  in 
(^^  Jamaica,  extending  over  one  of  the  most 
eventful  periods  of  its  history,  it  fell  to  my 
lot  to  reside  for  several  years  in  the  St.  Ann's 
Mountains.  St.  Ann's  is  one  of  the  north-side 
parishes,  and,  because  of  its  surpassing  loveliness, 
is  frequently  spoken  of  as  "  The  Garden  of  Ja- 
maica." The  designation  is  not,  however,  very 
well  chosen,  as  its  beautiful  and  varied  scenery 
more  resembles  that  of  a  wide-spread  park  than  a 
garden,  for  it  is  the  wild,  impressive  grandeur  of 
nature  that  greets  the  eye  rather  than  the  elegance 
and  beauty  which  speak  of  the  taste  and  handi- 
work of  man.  The  far-stretching  forests,  clothed 
with  the  perennial  verdure  of  never-ending  spring; 
the  bold  ranges  of  mountains,  burying  their  lofty 
summits  in  the  clouds;  the  green  slopes  and  deep 
ravines;  the  vast  pasture-fields,  waving  with  lux- 
uriant Guinea  grass,  and  studded  with  thousands 
of  majestic  cedars,  varied  by  the  rich  orange  or 
graceful  pimento-tree,  exhibit  scenes  of  enchant- 


114         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

ing  interest  to  the  traveler  throughout  most  of 
this  extensive  parish,  the  garden-like  scenery  of 
which  it  can  boast  being  confined  to  the  narrow 
strip  of  land  skirting  the  shore.  Devoted  to  the 
culture  of  the  sugar-cane,  and  marked  here  and 
there  with  the  huge  piles  of  building  included  in 
the  works  of  the  plantations,  here  are  displayed 
more  evident  traces  of  human  skill  and  toil  than 
in  that  larger  portion  of  the  parish  which  is  chiefly 
occupied  by  breeders  of  stock,  and  divided  into 
cattle  farms  or  pens,  as  such  properties  are 
usually  called,  and  which  are  largely  overspread 
with  the  fragrant  pimento,  yielding  in  rich  abun- 
dance the  "  allspice  "  known  to  commerce. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  this  part  of  the  island 
is  the  existence  of  numerous  "  sink-holes,"  large 
openings  in  the  earth,  communicating  with  subter- 
raneous passages  by  means  of  which  the  drainage  of 
the  towering  hills — that  in  other  parts  of  the  island 
creates  innumerable  beautiful  rivulets,  forming  in 
their  aggregate  considerable  rivers — is  borne  off 
invisibly  toward  the  coast ;  where,  bursting  out 
from  their  mountain  caverns,  large  streams,  gath- 
ered in  the  bowels  of  the  mountains,  rush  to  the 
sea,  exhibiting  in  several  instances  cascades  of 
great  majesty  and  beauty.  These  "  sink-holes  " 
are  generally  to  be  found  deep  down  in  some  val- 
ley, the  character  of  the  ground  around  them 
plainly  indicating  their  existence  ;  but  occasion- 
ally such  openings  are  to  be  met  with  on  more 
level  ground,  where  nothing  whatever  gives  a  sign 
of  danger,  grass  and  brush  growing  over  the  edges 


TJie  Assassin.  115 

of  the  aperture,  and  concealing  it  from  observa- 
tion, until  the  unwary  victim,  apprehensive  of  no 
peril,  steps  over  the  brink  of  the  treacherous 
chasm,  and  disappears  to  be  seen  no  more.  One 
or  two  instances  occurred  during  my  residence  in 
the  neighborhood,  of  sportsmen,  eager  in  the  pur- 
suit of  game,  being  lost  in  this  way — dropping  in 
a  moment  from  the  very  midst  of  life  and  enjoy- 
ment into  a  deep,  unfathomable  grave. 

In  the  south-western  part  of  the  parish  there  is 
such  an  opening  to  the  subterranean  passages  in 
the  mountains  possessing  a  kind  of  historical  in- 
terest, and  visited  by  the  curious  as  one  of  the 
lions  of  Jamaica.  It  is  known  as  "  Hutchinson's 
Hole,"  because  of  its  association  with  one  of  those 
shocking  tragedies  which,  being  attended  by  cir- 
cumstances of  unusual  horror,  stand  out  promi- 
nently and  permanently  in  the  annals  of  crime. 
Near  to  it  is  the  ruin  of  what  was  formerly  the 
residence  of  the  individual  who  figured  as  the  prin- 
cipal actor  in  the  catalogue  of  atrocities  which  gave 
him  an  unenviable  celebrity,  and  caused  his  name 
to  be  handed  down  to  posterity  as  the  designation  of 
one  of  the  most  sanguinary  monsters  that  ever  de- 
lighted in  the  shedding  of  innocent  blood.  The 
ruin  is  still  known  as  "  Hutchinson's  Tower." 

Accompanied  by  a  friend,  I  devoted  a  day  to 
visiting  this  somewhat  celebrated  spot.  We  mount- 
ed our  horses  after  an  early  breakfast,  and  riding 
some  two  miles  through  very  charming  scenery, 
arrived  at  a  center  where  several  roads  met,  known 
as  the  "  Finger-Post,"  from  the  fact  that  an  article 


Ii6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

of  that  description  was  erected  there  by  the  par- 
ish, to  afford  travelers  useful  information,  long 
before  the  existence  of  the  village  now  risen  in 
the  locality  bearing  the  same  name.  Directing 
our  course  according  to  the  indications  of  this  si- 
lent monitor,  we  set  our  faces  in  the  direction  of 
"  The  Pedroes."  For  two  or  three  miles  our  road 
lay  through  uncleared  forest,  here  and  there  bro- 
ken in  upon  by  the  rude  cottage  of  the  negro  set- 
tler, who,  having  after  emancipation  saved  money 
sufficient  to  purchase  a  small  freehold,  had  here 
set  himself  down  with  his  family,  in  indignant  inde- 
pendence of  the  planters,  whose  stupid  folly, 
equaled  only  by  their  reckless  malignity,  sought, 
by  systematic  fraud  and  oppression  whenever  op- 
portunity offered,  to  avenge  upon  the  people  the 
crime  of  having  received  their  freedom.  But  after 
a  little  while  we  rode  through  the  open,  pleasant 
pastures  of  cattle-farms,  overspreading  a  beautiful 
vale,  and  hemmed  in  by  mountains  of  consider- 
able altitude,  covered  with  rows  of  coffee-trees 
and  crowned  with  massive  buildings,  consisting  of 
the  coffee-works  and  barbecues  of  the  plantations, 
and  the  stately  mansions  of  the  proprietors.  After 
a  ride  of  several  miles  we  arrived  at  Edinburgh 
Castle — the  name  given  to  the  grazing  farm  to 
which  our  visit  was  directed. 

Situated  in  the  gorge  of  the  mountains,  which  rise 
abruptly  to  a  considerable  height  on  either  hand, 
there  is  a  hill  Avhose  precipitous  sides  seem  to  for- 
bid the  further  advance  of  the  traveler,  until  he 
finds  that  the  narrow  road  winds  around  its  base. 


The  Assassin.    .  117 

At  the  summit,  looking  right  down  upon  the  road, 
is  a  ruined  tower,  partly  concealed  by  the  large 
trees  which  have  grown  up  around  and  covered  it 
with  their  branches.  Further  up  the  mountain 
gorge  the  hill  gradually  slopes  off  to  a  level  with 
the  road,  affording  easy  access  to  the  tower  in  that 
direction.  Continuing  our  ride,  and  leaving  the 
tower  it  may  be  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind  us,  we 
turned  out  of  the  road,  and,  passing  through  the 
adjoining  field,  descended  into  a  deep  hollow, 
around  which  the  mountains  slope  upward  in  all 
directions,  forming  a  vast  natural  basin,  rugged 
with  numerous  channels,  through  which  in  the 
rainy  seasons  the  rushing  waters  descend  to  find  an 
outlet.  Deep  down  at  the  bottom  of  this  basin, 
surrounded  by  a  wall  to  keep  the  cattle  out  of 
danger,  and  overshadowed  by  the  dense  foli- 
age of  a  large  clump  of  cedars,  we  came  upon  a 
yawning  abyss,  several  yards  in  diameter,  down 
which  the  waters  find  their  course  through  unseen 
channels  to  the  sea.  Clambering  over  the  wall, 
Ave  looked  down  into  "  Hutchinson's  Hole,"  not 
without  a  feeling  akin  to  awe  and  terror,  which 
was  increased  when,  casting  down  several  large 
stones,  a  considerable  time  elapsed  before  a  splash 
or  rumbling  sound  came  back,  to  testify  the  im- 
mense depth  they  had  descended  before  meeting 
with  any  obstruction  to  their  fall. 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  century  the  tower 
dignified  with  the  name  of  "  Edinburgh  Castle " 
was  occupied  by  a  Scotchman  named  Lewis 
Hutchinson,  who  was  the  owner  of  the  farm  or 


ii8  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

pen  on  which  it  stood.  Right  across  the  farm 
stretched  the  narrow  defile  through  which  wound 
the  only  road  that  in  those  days  afforded  ordinary 
means  of  communication  between  the  north  and 
south  sides  of  the  country.  Hutchinson  had  not 
only  acquired  the  farm,  but  had  also,  by  some 
means,  become  the  owner  of  a  sufficient  number 
of  slaves  to  perform  all  the  labor  the  estate  re- 
quired ;  and  he  had  stocked  the  farm  with  cattle 
strayed  or  stolen  from  his  neighbors.  He  lived  in 
the  tower  alone,  or  surrounded  only  by  slaves 
brought  from  Africa,  and  purchased  from  the  slave- 
ships,  which  then  openly  carried  on  the  horrible 
traffic  in  stolen  human  beings,  unchecked  by  pub- 
lic opinion,  and  under  the  full  protection  of  the 
British  flag.  He  held  very  little  intercourse  with 
his  neighbors  ;  for,  though  none  suspected  that  he 
was  the  monster  of  crime  he  turned  out  to  be,  yet, 
exhibiting  a  morose  and  gloomy  character,  he  was 
generally  shunned,  and  few  cared  to  hold  any  in- 
tercourse with  him  beyond  that  which  the  ordi- 
nary business  of  life  rendered  unavoidable.  But 
the  occupant  of  that  lonely  tower  was  an  assassin 
who  made  a  trade  of  murder,  and  luxuriated  in 
the  deliberate  slaughter  of  his  fellow-men.  There 
was  then  but  little  communication  between  the 
two  sides  of  the  island,  and  that  was  chiefly  car- 
ried on  by  small  coasting  vessels,  running  round 
the  eastern  or  western  extremities  of  the  land. 
Very  few  persons  ventured  to  climb  the  rugged 
sides  of  the  mountain  which  the  Spaniards  named 
**  Diavola,"    and     then    wind    their     dreary    way 


The  Assassin.  119 

through  the  lonely  wooded  defiles  affording  the 
only  means  of  passage  by  land  from  one  coast  to 
the  other. 

The  terror  of  the  journey  was  increased  by  the 
fact  that  it  had  been  attempted  by  many  persons 
who  had  never  reached  their  destination  or  been 
heard  of  again.  By  what  means  they  had  perished 
none  could  guess.  Whether  cut  off  by  freebooters, 
or  carried  off  by  Maroons  to  their  inaccessible 
fastnesses  in  the  forest-covered  mountains,  never 
could  be  ascertained.  They  disappeared  leaving 
no  trace  behind;  and  the  mystery  was  explained 
only  when  the  atrocities  of  Hutchinson  were 
brought  to  light.  Then  it  transpired  that  they 
had  fallen  by  his  hand,  and  that  the  numerous 
travelers  who,  in  attempting  to  cross  over  the 
island,  had  dropped  out  of  life  as  suddenly  as  if 
the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  them  up,  and 
residents  of  the  neighborhood  who  had  also  mys- 
teriously disappeared,  and  were  supposed  to  have 
been  ingulfed  by  the  treacherous  sink-holes  in 
the  vicmity,  had  been  the  victims  of  as  revolting 
a  system  of  treachery  and  cruelty  as  ever  cast  a 
dark  shadow  upon  the  history  of  any  country. 

It  was  not  necessity  that  drove  him  to  the  per- 
petration of  crimes  worthy  of  the  Thugs  of  Hin- 
dostan,  for  he  was  wealthy ;  nor,  although  unscru- 
pulous as  to  the  means  he  employed  to  increase 
his  substance,  was  it  altogether  the  love  of  gain. 
Of  a  savage,  misanthropical  disposition,  intensified 
by  some  real  or  imaginary  injury  inflicted  upon 
bim  in  his  early  life,  he  cherished  a  fierce,  unnatu- 


I20  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

ral  detestation  of  the  human  race,  and  a  mor- 
bid taste  for  blood,  until  the  contemplation  of 
human  agony  became  his  chief  delight,  and 
his  morose  and  hardened  soul  found  its  high- 
est gratification  in  destroying  human  life.  Mur- 
der became  his  study  and  occupation  ;  and  it  was 
said  of  him,  as  gathered  from  the  testimony  of 
his  most  trusted  slave,  who  survived  his  master 
many  years,  that  if  his  destined  victim  were  infirm 
or  sick,  he  carefully  attended  to  him,  and  revived 
his  strength  ;  or  if  he  could  behold  him  first  in 
fancied  security,  in  the  convivial  assembly,  or  per- 
haps in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  it  gave  him  greater 
satisfaction  to  inflict  the  blow  which  cut  him  off, 
and  increased  his  appetite  to  relish  the  expiring 
struggle.  To  enjoy  the  gory  spectacle,  he  always 
dissevered  the  head  from  the  palpitating  body. 
His  most  pleasing  occupation  was  to  whet  his 
gleaming  knife.  His  gloomy  soul  was  sated  only 
by  a  copious  flow  of  blood.  Simply  to  destroy 
life  was  not  sufficient  :  and  he  experienced  a  sav- 
age delight  in  gloating  over  the  writhing  agony 
from  which  most  men  instinctively  turn  away  their 
eyes.  He  would  retain  the  ghastly  head  where  it 
would  be  constantly  before  him ;  and  when, 
through  the  influence  of  the  climate,  it  rapidly 
changed,  and  he  could  no  longer  feast  his  gaze 
upon  the  decaying  countenance,  it  was  his  habit 
to  place  it  high  in  the  air  in  the  hollow  trunk 
of  a  cotton-tree,  where  the  vultures  could  speedi- 
ly strip  it  of  the  putrefying  flesh.  After  this 
the  whitened   skull  was  cast   down  the  yawning 


The  Assassin.  I2I 

chasm  into  which  the  mangled  carcass  had  already 
been  thrown. 

Hutchinson's  slaves  were  made  participators  of 
his  sanguinary  deeds.  These  were  Africans,  pro- 
cured fresh  from  the  slave-ships,  and  speaking 
only  their  own  language.  Familiarized  with 
cruelty  and  blood  in  their  own  land,  and  sunk  in 
heathen  ignorance,  they  perceived  nothing  crim- 
inal or  unusual  in  these  atrocious  acts,  and,  with 
the  submission  with  which  slaves  bow  to  the  will 
of  their  owner,  they  did  whatever  he  commanded, 
and  scrupled  not  to  take  the  part  assigned  to  them 
by  their  master  in  helping  to  destroy  the  living  or 
dispose  of  the  dead.  The  risk  from  them  was 
slight,  for  as  they  were  never  suffered  to  be 
away  from  the  farm,  and  knew  no  language  but 
that  brought  from  their  native  wilds  across  the 
sea,  they  were  not  able,  even  if  they  felt  an  inclina- 
tion to  do  so,  to  make  any  revelation  concerning 
the  character  and  doings  of  their  guilty  owner. 
But,  apart  from  this,  fear  would  suffice  to  seal 
their  lips,  as  their  own  lives  lay  at  his  mercy ; 
and  if  it  were  his  pleasure  to  cut  them  in  frag- 
ments with  the  terrible  cartwhip  in  that  secluded 
vale,  he  could  do  so  with  perfect  impunity.  Thus 
it  was  that  for  many  years  he  carried  on  the  prac;- 
tice  of  assassination  without  being  discovered  or 
exciting  any  suspicion.  Occasionally  travelers  in 
company  would  traverse  the  gloomy  valley  and 
call  at  the  tower,  and  these,  after  being  hospitably 
entertained,  passed  on  in  safety,  their  plurality 
being  their  protection.     But  no  solitary  traveler 


122         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

who  attempted  to  thread  his  way  througn  the 
lonely  mountain  gorge,  however  poor  or  wretched 
he  might  be,  was  suffered  to  escape  alive  from  the 
confines  of  Hutchinson's  farm.  The  tower  was  so 
situated  as  completely  to  command  the  narrow 
road,  and  the  murderer  or  one  of  his  slaves  kept 
constant  watch  for  any  passer  by  who,  alone,  and 
not  suspecting  danger,  might  become  their  prey. 
The  needy  wanderer  would  sometimes  call  at  the 
lonely  turret,  the  first  sign  of  a  human  habitation 
which  for  many  miles  had  greeted  his  eye,  and 
solicit  food  and  temporary  shelter.  And  he  would 
obtain  it  without  grudging,  but  it  would  be  the  last 
he  would  ever  partake  of.  The  more  wealthy  trav- 
eler would  halt  and  seek  hospitality  at  the  tower, 
which  would  be  cheerfully  afforded,  without  any 
idea  of  remuneration,  and  he  would  leave,  grateful 
for  the  rough  but  apparently  kind  attentions  he 
had  received,  only,  however,  to  meet  the  cruel 
fate  to  which  he  had  been  silently  doomed. by  the 
treacherous  master  of  that  habitation  while  sitting 
at  his  board  in  seeming  friendly  intercourse. 
From  a  loop-hole  of  the  tower  in  one  direction,  or 
through  a  thick-set  hedge  of  logwood  prepared  for 
the  purpose  on  the  other,  and  both  of  which  per- 
fectly commanded  the  narrow  path,  the  hapless 
victim  would  be  shot  down  with  unerring  aim  by 
the  assassin  or  his  slave  assistants.  Sometimes  at 
the  cattle-fold  hard  by  the  road  the  master  would 
detain  in  conversation  a  wayfarer  who  might  be 
passing  on  without  stopping  at  the  tower,  while  his 
slave  from  behind   the  fence  could  leisurely  take 


TJic  Assassin.  123 

aim  at  the  unsuspecting  victim,  and  stretch  him 
low  in  death.  Thus  it  was  that  for  some  years 
lonely  travelers  across  the  mountain  range  of  Ja- 
maica continued  mysteriously  to  disappear.  Not 
only  days  but  weeks  generally  elapsed  before  they 
were  missed  by  their  friends.  And  then  all  in- 
quiry was  vain ;  all  traces  of  them  had  vanished 
from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

But  the  most  successful  and  protracted  career 
of  crime  meets  with  a  check  at  last.  Some  over- 
sight, some  seeming  accident,  e\v:urs  to  mar  the 
well-planned  scheme,  and  furnish  a  clue  to  the 
cleverly  concealed  villainy,  and  the  evil  doer  finds 
in  the  end  how  true  are  the  words  of  inspired  wis- 
dom, "Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out."  So  it 
was  with  the  assassin  Hutchinson.  He  was  suf- 
fered to  run  a  long  course  of  evil  unchecked ;  but 
in  the  operations  of  that  Providence  which  is  all- 
pervading  and  all-controlling,  the  mystery  of  ini- 
quity was  at  length  unraveled,  and  the  blood- 
stained wretch  stood  revealed  in  all  his  terrible 
enormity  of  crime.  A  failure  in  his  usual  caution, 
an  oversight  committed  in  his  eagerness  to  accom- 
plish a  long-meditated  act  of  villainy,  unmasked  the 
murderer,  and  brought  his  guilty  career  to  an  end. 

In  the  same  vale,  but  at  a  considerable  distance, 
was  a  cattle-farm  similar  to  his  own,  the  manager 
of  which — a  person  named  Callendar — had  for  a 
considerable  time  been  marked  out  for  assassina- 
tion by  Hutchinson  whenever  the  favorable  op- 
portunity should  occur.  By  some  offense,  perhaps 
altogether  unintentional,  he  had  awakened  against 


124         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

himself  the  inextinguishable  hatred  of  his  danger- 
ous neighbor,  who,  however,  concealed  both  his 
feelings  and  intentions  deep  within  his  own  breast. 
A  few  of  Hutchinson's  cattle  had  strayed  and 
found  their  way  to  the  property  under  Callendar's 
care,  where  they  had  committed  some  depreda- 
tions. With  neighborly  kindness  the  manager 
drove  them  back  to  their  own  plantation,  and  de- 
livered them  over  to  the  care  of  their  owner,  re- 
questing that  they  might  not  be  suffered  so  to 
trespass  again.  Such  an  occasion  was  not  favora- 
ble to  the  purposes  of  the  murderer,  accompanied, 
as  Callendar  was,  by  slave-drovers  or  cattle-men 
belonging  to  the  estate  under  his  care.  The  vis- 
itor was  hospitably  entertained,  and  dismissed  with 
assurances  which  satisfied  him,  gratified  with  the 
apparent  cordiality  that  had  marked  the  conduct 
of  his  host.  The  visit  was  returned,  and  the  as- 
sassin spent  a  day  in  intercourse  with  his  intended 
victim,  which  seemed  to  partake  of  the  utmost 
friendliness.  Thus  a  freedom  of  acquaintance 
was  promoted  that  promised  to  give  the  desired 
opportunity  for  the  indulgence  of  the  treacherous 
cruelty  lying  hidden  beneath  all  this  show  of 
friendship.  After  two  or  three  visits  had  been 
interchanged,  one  day,  as  the  unsuspecting  Cal- 
lendar was  going  to  or  returning  from  the  tower, 
a  rifle  bullet  from  behind  the  fatal  hedge,  fired  by 
the  hand  of  Hutchinson,  stretched  him  upon  the 
earth,  and  the  tragedy  was  completed  in  the  usual 
way,  except  that  in  this  case,  as  it  might  be  haz- 
ardous to  retain  in  his  possession  such  a  dangerous 


The  Assassin.  125 

clew  to  the  unfolding  of  the  mystery  certain  to 
attach  to  Callendar's  sudden  disappearance,  the 
bleeding  body,  with  the  head  still  attached,  was 
committed  to  the  unfathomable  charnel-house  that 
had  engulfed  so  many,  and  which  the  murderer 
vainly  imagined  would  never  give  up  its  dead. 

There  happened  to  be  in  the  tower,  confined  to 
bed  by  sickness,  an  unsuspecting  traveler,  who 
had  stopped  there  on  his  journey,  and  who,  wea- 
ried and  worn  out  by  the  illness  that  had  overtaken 
him  on  the  road,  had  solicited  the  shelter  and 
hospitality  of  the  lone  house  until  he  should  be 
recovered  sufficiently  to  pursue  his  journey.  This 
had  been  freely  accorded,  and  the  patient  was 
tended  with  such  rude  care  as  the  slave  denizens 
of  the  farm,  under  the  direction  of  their  master, 
were  able  to  afford,  with  the  intention  on  the  part 
of  the  treacherous  host  that  in  due  time,  when  the 
unsuspicious  guest  should  take  his  departure  in 
all  confidence  and  security,  and  warmed  with 
gratitude  for  the  generous  treatment  he  had  re- 
ceived, he  might  gloat  over  the  luxury  of  laying 
him  low  with  his  fatal  rifle,  and  send  him  to  join 
the  numerous  victims  already  consigned  to  the  deep, 
yawning  abyss  close  at  hand.  Having  in  some  de- 
gree recovered  from  the  fever  which  for  many  days 
had  prostrated  all  his  energies,  and  gladly  risen  from 
his  couch,  through  the  small  opening  that  admitted 
light  and  air  into  a  room  he  had  accidentally  en- 
tered, he  became,  to  his  inexpressible  horror,  an 
unseen  witness  of  the  assassination  of  the  unfor- 
tunate   Callendar,      He    had   heard    of  the  dark 


126         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

mystery  which  enshrouded  the  fate  of  numerous 
travelers  who  had  ventured  to  cross  the  island  by 
that  lonely  road,  and  here  light  was  suddenly 
thrown  upon  it.  He  could  now  understand  the 
reason  of  their  inexplicable  disappearance. 
Shocked  beyond  measure  with  what  he  had  seen, 
he  placed  a  powerful  restraint  upon  his  feeling's 
and  let  no  word  or  sign  escape  him  concerning  the 
tragedy  wrought  before  his  eyes,  but  quietly  waited 
his  opportunity.  As  soon  as  his  recovered  strength 
permitted,  when  the  owner  of  the  tower  was  ab- 
sent, possessing  himself  of  a  horse,  and  eluding  all 
observation,  he  effected  his  escape  from  the  fate 
which  he  felt  sure  awaited  him,  especially  if  his 
possession  of  the  terrible  secret  should  for  a  mo- 
ment be  suspected. 

Unseen  and  untraced,  he  made  his  way  to  the 
nearest  habitation  he  could  find,  and  the  alarm 
was  given.  He  made  known  the  murder  of  Cal- 
lendar  as  he  had  witnessed  it  from  the  turret, 
and  the  bearing  away  of  the  mangled  body  in  the 
direction  of  the  deep  sink-hole  which  received  the 
drainings  of  the  surrounding  hills.  Soon  the 
whole  country  was  up  in  wild  excitement ;  for 
suspicion  of  the  truth  was  now  awakened,  and  the 
mysterious  disappearances  which  for  years  had 
kept  up  a  painful  interest  on  both  sides  of  the 
island  were  accounted  for.  The  murderer,  on  re- 
turning home  in  the  evening,  discovered  the  es- 
cape of  his  guest,  whose  destruction  he  had  been 
brooding  over  for  many  days  with  savage  satisfac- 
tion ;  and,  fearing  that  the  assassination  of  Callen- 


The  Assassin.  127 

dar  was  known,  he  fled.  Making  his  v\ay  with  all 
possible  speed  across  the  mountains  and  through 
the  tangled  forest,  avoiding  human  habitations  and 
frequented  roads,  he  arrived  at  the  south  coast. 
On  reaching  Old  Harbor,  one  of  the  south-side 
ports,  he  took  unceremonious  possession  of  an 
open  boat  and  put  to  sea,  and  he  succeeded  in 
getting  on  board  a  ship  which  was  passing  the 
island  under  sail,  congratulating  himself  on  having, 
as  he  supposed,  thrown  off  and  baffled  all  his  pur^ 
suers.  But  the  whole  country  was  up  and  in 
pursuit ;  for  intelligence  of  the  discovery  which 
had  been  made  spread  with  unexampled  rapidity, 
aggravated  rather  than  lessened  by  the  voice  of 
rumor,  and  all  were  anxious  that  the  assassin 
should  be  secured  and  brought  to  justice. 

Some  hours  after  the  alarm  had  been  given  con- 
cerning the  murder  of  Callendar  a  strong  party 
repaired  to  Edinburgh  Castle  to  seize  the  criminal. 
Then  it  was  discovered  that  he  had  taken  alarm, 
and  fled ;  but  his  course  was  traced,  and  it  was 
soon  ascertained  that  he  had  boarded  a  passing 
vessel.  Admiral  Sir  George  Rodney,  the  hero  of 
that  Western  Archipelago,  happened  to  be  lying 
at  Port  Royal  with  the  fleet  under  his  command  ; 
and  as  soon  as  the  intelligence  was  conveyed  to 
him  of  what  had  occurred  in  St.  Ann's,  and  the 
escape  of  the  assassin,  the  admiral  put  to  sea  in 
his  own  ship,  and  speedily  overhauled  the  mer- 
chant vessel  in  which  the  fugitive,  in  fancied  se- 
curity, was  flying  to  some  distant  shore.  Inter- 
cepted  in    his    flight,   Hutchinson    threw  himself 


128         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

into  the  waves,  seeking  there  the  death  which  he 
now  saw  to  be  inevitable.  From  this,  however,  he 
was  rescued  by  the  admiral's  boats,  and  reserved 
for  a  more  ignominious  fate. 

After  the  flight  and  apprehension  of  the  murderer 
search  was  made,  and  then  his  enormous  villainy 
was  brought  to  light.  No  less  than  forty-two 
watches  were  found  in  his  chests,  all  of  which  had 
been  plundered  from  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  yet 
larger  number  of  those  whom  he  had  slaughtered  ; 
and  the  fact  stood  clearly  revealed  that  the  mul- 
titude of  persons  who,  through  successive  years, 
had  disappeared  from  life  in  passing  across  the 
country  had  all  found  a  tragical  end  in  that 
mountain  gorge,  and  had  been  swallowed  up  in 
the  depth  of  abyss  ever  yawning  for  fresh  victims 
near  the  murderer's  turret.  Information  was  ob- 
tained from  the  slaves,  by  means  of  an  interpreter, 
as  to  the  method  by  which  the  murdered  remains 
were  disposed  of;  and  an  attempt  was  made  to 
search  the  dark,  fearful-looking  pit,  by  letting  down 
a  bundle  of  lighted  straw.  Far  down,  at  the  depth 
of  many  feet,  suspended  on  the  point  of  a  project- 
ing rock,  was  discovered  the  mangled,  putrefying 
body  of  the  murdered  Callendar;  but  the  depths 
below  had  more  effectually  received  and  disposed 
of  all  the  other  victims. 

In  due  time  Hutchinson  was  brought  to  trial  for 
the  murder  of  Callendar  at  St.  Jago  de  la  Vega. 
After  a  display  of  hardihood  and  bravado  seldom 
witnessed  in  a  court  of  justice,  the  ruffian  was 
convicted  and  speedily  suffered  the  last  penalty 


The  Assassin.  I2Q 

of  the  law  upon  the  gallows.  "  The  enormity 
of  his  crimes,"  says  the  historian  of  the  time, 
"  might  be  exceeded  by  his  hardened  insolence 
before  his  judges;  but  his  reckless  gaze  upon  the 
instrument  which  was  to  convey  him  before  the 
tribunal  of  his  Maker  finds  no  parallel  in  the  his- 
tory of  crime  or  punishment ;  nor  can  the  annals 
of  human  depravity  equal  the  fact  that  at  the  foot 
of  the  scaffold  he  left  a  hundred  pounds  in  gold 
to  erect  a  monument,  and  to  inscribe  the  marble 
with  a  record  of  his  death."  The  document  is 
probably  still  in  existence  at  Spanish  Town, 
written  by  the  hand  and  bearing  the  signature  of 
the  notorious  criminal,  in  which  he  expressed  this 
extraordinary  wish,  only  a  few  moments  before 
his  wretched,  blood-stained  soul  passed  into  the 
presence  of  its  Creator  and  Judge.  The  record 
he  required  to  be  placed  on  the  tablet  in  these 
words  :  "  Lewis  Hutchinson,  hanged  in  Spanish 
Town,  Jamaica,  on  the  sixteenth  morning  of 
March,  in  the  year  of  his  Lord  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  seventy-three.  Aged  forty 
years. 

"  *  Their  sentence,  pride,  and  malice  I  defy, 
Despise  their  power,  and  like  a  Roman  die.' " 


130         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


VI. 

The  Hell-Fire  Club. 

These  are  they 
That  strove  to  pull  Jehovah  from  his  throne ; 
And  in  the  place  of  heaven's  eternal  King 
Set  up  the  phantom  Chance.— Glynn. 

tHE  foregoing  tale  of  Hutchinson  the  assassin 
is  properly  followed  by  another,  which  serves 
yet  more  impressively  to  illustrate  the  retrib- 
utive providence  of  God  in  the  affairs  of  men. 
About  a  week  after  my  visit  to  Hutchinson's  Hole 
I  had  called  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  when  a  gen- 
tleman residing  in  the  neighborhood  came  in.  He 
was  a  planter,  having  the  management  of  several 
large  properties,  and  possessing  a  higher  degree  of 
mental  culture  than  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  many 
in  the  class  he  belonged  to.  He  had  become  a 
frequent  attendant  upon  the  services  at  the  mis- 
sion sanctuary,  about  a  mile  from  the  plantation 
where  his  residence  was  beautifully  situated  in  one 
of  the  finest  localities  of  the  island  ;  and  the  truth 
had  so  far  wrought  upon  his  mind  and  heart  as  to 
induce  him  to  dissever  himself  from  one  of  the 
vicious  habits  fostered  into  general  prevalence 
under  the  corrupting  influences  with  which  such  a 
system  as  slavery  always  pervades  the  country 
wherein  it  is  unhappily  established.     After  the  or- 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  131 

dinary  salutations  had  passed,  and  we  had  resumed 
our  seats  he  drew  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket, 
and  directed  my  attention  to  a  brief  obituary 
notice  contained  in  it.  On  looking  over  it  I 
found  that  it  was  the  announcement  of  the  death 
of  one  who  was  unknown  to  me.  He  was 
described  as  a  planter  of  middle  age,  who  had  fin- 
ished his  earthly  course  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
island. 

"Your  discourse  on  Sunday  morning  interested 
me  very  much,"  said  my  visitor,  when  I  had  read 
the  notice  to  which  he  had  directed  my  attention, 
"  and  I  was  greatly  impressed  by  your  remarks 
concerning  a  retributive  providence  and  the  illus- 
trations you  gave.  I  was  well  acquainted  with 
many  of  the  men  to  whom  you  referred,  who  are 
now  no  more ;  and  with  some  of  them  I  was  inti- 
mate for  years." 

"  My  mind  was  prepossessed  very  much  with 
the  subject,"  I  replied,  "from  having,  with  a 
friend,  last  week,  visited  Edinburgh  Castle,  cele- 
brated as  the  scene  of  the  Hutchinson  tragedies 
many  years  ago ;  and  I  was  so  impressed  with  the 
facts  involved  in  that  case,  especially  with  the 
manner  in  which  the  wickedness  of  the  man  was 
brought  to  light,  that  I  was  induced  to  take  the 
warning  of  Moses  to  the  two  tribes  as  my  subject 
for  the  pulpit  on  Sabbath  morning.  God  has 
wrought  very  marvelously  during  the  few  years 
past  in  breaking  up  and  scattering  that  unlawful 
association,  the  Colonial  Church  Union ;  and  the 
manner  in  which  his  hand  has  been  laid  upon  its 


132         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

founders  and  leaders,  the  rector  and  his  friend, 
Mr.  H.,  is  to  my  mind  most  impressive  and  ad- 
monitory. I  think  it  fitting  and  proper  that  we 
should,  in  these  things  as  in  others,  consider  the 
works  of  the  Lord,  and  regard  the  operations  of 
his  hand."  It  was  God's  complaint  concerning 
his  ancient  people,  "  When  my  hand  is  lifted  up, 
they  will  not  see  it.     But  they  shall  see." 

"I  think  with  you,"  he  said,  "that  we  ought 
to  recognize  Divine  Providence  in  those  events 
which  have  occurred.  Indeed,  it  is  scarcely  pos- 
sible for  any  thoughtful  person  to  do  otherwise, 
they  have  been  so  remarkable.  Even  Mr.  H.  B., 
who  took  a  leading  part  himself  in  the  proceedings 
of  the  Union,  acknowledged,  before  the  accident 
occurred  which  caused  his  own  death,  when  he 
saw  first  one  and  then  another  of  his  friends  so 
suddenly  cut  off  from  life,  '  The  hand  of  God  is 
in  these  things.'  And  that  is  a  very  remarkable 
confession  in  the  rector's  printed  address  to  his 
parishioners,  that  '  his  life  had  been  spent  in  a 
vain  effort  to  push  God  out  of  the  world  he  .had 
jnade.'  I  observed  that  you  did  not  mention  any 
names ;  but  I  understood  nearly  all  the  cases  to 
which  you  referred,  and  knew  the  parties  well.  I 
have  never  known  the  doctrine  of  retribution  so 
fearfully  illustrated  anywhere  as  it  has  been  in  this 
colony  during  the  last  few  years  ;  and  I  was  glad 
you  took  up  the  subject  as  you  did,  and  discussed 
it  in  a  manner  that  could  not  be  otherwise  than 
instructive  and  admonitory  to  your  hearers.  My 
thoughts  have  dwelt  largely  on   the   subject  ever 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  133 

since  ;  and  I  was  startled  when  I  received  this 
newspaper  by  the  post  to-day,  and  read  the  notice 
to  which  I  have  called  your  attention." 

"I  am  not  aware,"  I  remarked,  "that  I  had  any 
acquaintance  with  the  person.  The  name  is 
strange  to  me.  Is  there  any  thing  remarkable  as- 
sociated with  his  history  }  " 

"  Only  this,"  he  said,  "  that  he  was  the  sole  sur- 
vivor of  a  party  or  club  which  existed  some  years 
ago,  and  whose  history  was  very  forcibly  recalled 
to  my  mind  as  you  were  speaking  about  providen- 
tial retribution.  I  knew  some  of  the  persons  con- 
cerned in  it  personally,  and  have  often  thought 
that  the  Lord  dealt  with  them  in  a  very  remarka- 
ble way.  They  were  all  members  of  what  was 
called  the  '  Hell-Fire  Club,'  of  which  you  have 
probably  heard,  though  it  is  now  extinct,  and  has 
been  so  for  some  years." 

"I  have  heard  it  spoken  of,"  I  replied,  "but 
I  never  met  with  any  one  who  could  give  me 
particular  information  concerning  the  origin  and 
design  of  an  association  bearing  such  a  signifi- 
cant designation.  Perhaps  you  may  be  able  to 
do  so." 

"  I  am  not  prepared,"  said  he,  "  to  gratify  your 
curiosity  to  any  considerable  extent,  though  I  lived 
for  several  years  in  the  neighborhood  where  it  ex- 
isted. It  was  a  club  established  for  profane  and 
infidel  purposes  by  some  parties  at  Morant  Bay; 
and  I  believe,  though  I  cannot  state  positively, 
that  it  originated  about  the  beginning  of  this  cen- 
tury, or  soon  after,  when  opposition  to  the  mission- 


134        Romance  Without  Fiction, 

aries  was  fiercely  raging.  Who  were  the  founders 
of  the  chib  I  never  heard.  I  suppose  they  had 
rules  by  which  the  association  was  to  be  governed  ; 
but,  if  so,  they  kept  them  very  much  to  themselves. 
From  all  I  ever  learned  about  it,  I  believe  it  was 
got  up  to  oppose  the  spread  of  religion  by  the 
missionaries,  and  to  propagate  and  encourage 
blasphemy  and  infidelity." 

"  How  long  did  it  continue  to  exist  7  "  I  in- 
quired. 

"Between  twenty  and  thirty  years,"  he  replied, 
"  and  then  it  came  to  an  end.  The  last  I  heard 
of  it  was  an  occurrence  associated  with  the  name 
of  the  person  whose  death  is  reported  in  the  news- 
paper I  have  shown  to  you  as  having  taken  place 
a  few  days  ago  at  Morant  Bay.  It  was  there  the 
club  was  first  established,  and  the  incidents  with 
which  he  was  identified  were  of  such  a  character 
as  to  make  a  profound  impression  upon  all  who 
became  acquainted  with  them.  The  facts  were 
partly  related  to  me  by  himself  many  years  ago, 
and  they  were  brought  very  vividly  to  my  recol- 
lection while  I  listened  to  you  on  Sunday  last.  I 
thought  it  a  strange  coincidence  that  to-day,  on 
receiving  my  newspaper  from  the  post-office,  the 
first  thing  my  eye  lighted  on  was  the  announce- 
ment of  that  man's  death  who  had  been  for  several 
days  so  much  in  my  thoughts,  and  concerning 
whom  I  felt  some  anxiety  to  ascertain  whether  he 
was  yet  living,  or  had  followed  his  former  asso- 
ciates to  the  grave." 

"  I   should    feel    obliged,"  I  remarked    to   my 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  135 

visitor,  "  if  you  have  no  objection,  if  you  will  re- 
late to  me  the  incidents  to  which  you  allude.  I 
have  long  desired  to  possess  myself  of  such  par- 
ticulars as  can  now  be  ascertained  relative  to 
that  club,  whose  very  name  seems  to  express 
something  very  much  like  a  daring  defiance  of 
God." 

"  I  shall  be  happy,"  he  responded,  "  to  give  you 
the  information  as  I  received  it,  which  I  believe 
to  be  substantially  correct,  coming  as  it  did  to  me 
chiefly  from  a  person  so  deeply  interested.  The 
members  of  the  club  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting 
at  different  places,  both  in  town  and  country,  as 
agreed  upon  among  themselves.  At  one  of  the 
last  meetings — I  believe  the  very  last — there  were 
present  ten  members,  mostly  planters  in  charge 
of  the  surrounding  plantations  ;  and  it  took  place 
on  the  estate  of  which  the  person  whose  death  is 
mentioned  in  this  newspaper  was  the  overseer.  I 
am  not  prepared  to  say  whether  it  was  one  of  the 
regular  meetings  of  the  club,  or  an  accidental 
gathering  of  some  who  were  connected  with  it  for 
one  of  those  seasons  of  debauch  and  drunkenness 
to  which  the  planters  of  those  days  regularly  gave 
themselves  up  on  Sundays  in  most  parts  of  the 
country.  From  the  number  assembled  I  should 
think  it  was  the  former.  After  some  hours  spent 
in  deep  potations  and  obscene  and  riotous  orgies, 
more  befitting  fiends  than  intelligent  and  account- 
able human  beings,  until  all  unhallowed  passions 
became  rampant,  the  persons  who  had  been 
chosen  to  preside  over  the  drunken  revel  called 


136         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

upon  his  companions  to  fill  up  their  glasses,  and 
drink  a  toast  which  he  would  propose  for  them. 
This  done,  he  proposed  the  toast — so  profane,  so 
blasphcmcus,  and  expressing  such  outrageous  de- 
fiance of  God,  that  I  shrink  from  putting  it  down. 
To  give  point  to  the  words  of  blasphemy  and  ex- 
press defiance  of  the  Almighty  more  emphatic 
than  could  be  enunciated  in  mere  language,  it  was 
suggested  that  each  of  them  should  hold  a  loaded 
pistol  in  his  hand  and  fire  it  off  at  the  moment  of 
drinking  the  toast.  Mad  and  reckless  as  they  were 
with  excess,  several  of  the  debauchees  were  startled 
and  stood  aghast  at  the  daring  wickedness  of  the 
proposal.  But  it  was  only  for  a  few  brief 
moments.  Then  all  were  agreed  except  one,  and 
he  the  overseer  of  the  plantation  on  which  they 
were  assembled.  Not  quite  so  hardened  in  wick- 
edness as  most  of  his  associates,  he  refused  to  be 
a  party  to  the  daring  profanity,  and  for  a  time 
held  out  against  all  the  persuasion  and  upbraidings 
with  which  he  was  assailed.  It  was  only  when  the 
reckless  men  around  him  threatened  violence,  and 
he  stood  in  fear  of  his  life,  that  he  yielded  a 
trembling  consent  and  drank  the  toast.  Soon 
after  they  separated.  And  that  was  the  last  meet- 
ing of  the  Hell-fire  Club  ;  for  within  a  few  weeks 
most  of  the  company  of  blasphemers  were  swept 
away  by  some  violent  death.  And  before  the  end 
of  three  months  every  one  was  gone  to  the  grave, 
except  the  person  whose  death  is  now  recorded  in 
the  newspapers,  and  who  was  the  one  who  refused 
for  a  while  to  join  in  the  blasphemers'  toast.     The 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  137 

last  of  the  nine  was  the  man  who  acted  as  presi- 
dent on  the  occasion,  and  the  author  and  proposer 
of  the  profane  toast.  He  died  under  peculiar 
circumstances,  and  in  great  agony,  which  occa- 
sioned much  remark  at  the  time." 

I  here  interrupted  the  narrator  to  inquire  if  he 
had  been  personally  acquainted  with  any  of  the 
individuals  he  had  referred  to. 

"I  knew  the  person,"  he  said,  "whose  death 
has  just  taken  place,  and  with  two  or  three  of  the 
others  I  was  slightly  acquainted  ;  but  I  was  only 
a  young  man  when  these  circumstances  transpired, 
and  I  heard  them  much  talked  of  at  the  time  they 
took  place.  What  occurred  at  the  drinking  party, 
together  with  the  toast  and  the  firing  of  the  pis- 
tols, were  all  related  to  me  by  the  individual  whose 
death  is  mentioned  here.  In  consequence  of  three 
of  the  party  meeting  with  sudden  death  during  the 
very  next  week  after  they  had  so  daringly  defied 
the  Almighty  a  deep  impression  was  made  upon 
his  mind,  and  he  was  induced  to  speak  of  what 
had  occurred,  otherwise  the  whole  might  have 
passed  off  as  other  drunken  revels  had  done,  and 
no  more  been  said  or  thought  about  it.  He  be- 
came a  different  man  after  that,  and  went  to  no 
more  Sunday  drinking  parties." 

I  expressed  a  desire  to  be  informed  if  the  three 
persons  alluded  to  all  met  their  death  at  the  same 
time. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  One  of  them  was  an  overseer 
on  a  neighboring  plantation,  and  was  crushed  by 
a  piece  of  timber  falling  upon  him.     This  took 


138         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

place  the  day  following  the  guilty  revel.  He  was 
giving  directions  to  some  workmen  who  were  rais- 
ing the  roof  of  a  new  building  on  the  estate  when 
a  beam  or  rafter  fell  and  struck  him,  inflicting  such 
injuries  that  he  survived  only  a  few  minutes.  The 
person  who  has  recently  died  happened  to  be  pres- 
ent when  the  accident  occurred.  And  it  is  not 
surprising  that  such  an  event  following  imme- 
diately upon  the  drunken  carouse  of  the  preced- 
ing day,  which  was  characterized  by  such  despe- 
rate wickedness,  should  make  a  serious  impression 
upon  his  mind,  especially  when,  a  day  or  two  later, 
two  more  of  the  party  were  also  cut  off.  They 
were  returning  home  on  horseback  from  a  visit  to 
one  of  the  plantations,  having  drank  freely  with 
the  overseer.  But  during  the  time  they  Avere  oc- 
cupied in  the  convivialities  that  generally  attended 
such  visits,  heavy  rains  in  the  mountains  had 
brought  down  a  flood  in  the  river  which  they  had 
to  cross  on  their  return  home,  and,  as  it  was  dark, 
they  were  not  in  a  condition  to  observe  how  much 
the  waters  were  swollen.  They  attempted  to  ford 
the  stream,  but  were  washed  from  their  horses, 
and  borne  away  to  the  sea  by  the  fierce  torrent. 
Their  bodies,  much  bruised  and  mangled  by 
being  dashed  against  the  massive  boulders  in 
the  river-course,  were  found  cast  ashore  on  the 
following  day  in  a  condition  scarcely  to  be  iden- 
tified." 

"Do  you  know,"  I  inquired,  "what  became 
of  the  others  7  for  I  think  you  said  they  all 
came  to  the  grave  within  a  short  time  after  the 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  139 

meeting  at  which  the  blasphemous  toast  was  pro- 
posed." 

"  It  is  some  years  now,"  he  said,  "  since  I  con- 
versed with  any  one  upon  the  subject,  and  the 
particulars  are  not  so  distinct  in  my  mind  as  they 
were.  In  the  lapse  of  years,  names,  dates,  and 
places  are  apt  to  get  confounded  when  the  mem- 
ory alone  is  relied  upon ;  but  the  main  facts  were 
of  such  a  character  as  not  easily  to  be  forgotten, 
though  I  cannot  undertake  to  relate  them  in  the 
exact  order  in  which  they  occurred.  Very  shortly 
after  the  two  were  drowned  in  fording  the  river — 
I  think  it  was  the  following  week — a  Mr.  M'P., 
who  was  one  of  the  drinking  party,  also  in  the 
planting  line,  was  riding  a  young  horse  not  very 
well  broken  to  the  bit  and  saddle,  when  the  ani- 
mal took  fright  at  something  that  caught  his  at- 
tention and  started  off  at  full  speed.  The  road 
being  rough  and  rocky,  the  horse  fell,  throwing 
his  rider  with  great  violence,  and  smashing  his 
head  against  some  stones  on  the  side  of  the  way. 
He  was  killed  on  the  spot.  A  Mr.  G.  was  about 
the  same  time  killed  by  negroes  in  revenge  for  in- 
juries he  had  inflicted  upon  them.  At  least  it  was 
supposed  that  some  of  the  slaves  on  the  estate  of 
which  he  was  overseer  were  the  murderers,  though 
the  real  culprits  could  never  be  discovered.  He 
was  very  severe  and  cruel  in  his  management  of 
the  property  intrusted  to  his  care,  inflicting  fre- 
quent and  heavy  punishments ;  and  he  wrought 
the  people  very  hard,  so  that  generally  more  ne- 
groes died  off  where  he  was  overseer  than  on  any 


140         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

of  the  plantations  around.  He  was  one  of  the  old 
school  planters,  who  lived  in  the  time  of  the  slave- 
trade,  and  thought  it  more  profitable  to  get  all  the 
work  he  could  out  of  the  Africans,  and  supply  the 
waste  by  purchasing  others  from  the  slave-ships, 
than  to  treat  them  more  kindly,  and  allow  the 
slave  population  on  the  estate  to  increase  in  the 
natural  way.  After  the  slave-trade  was  abolished 
he  continued  the  same  cruel  system  of  manage- 
ment, and  the  consequence  was  that,  although  he 
made  large  crops,  yet  the  estates  suffered  so  much 
in  his  hands  by  the  loss  of  slaves,  who  could  not 
now  be  replaced  as  before,  that  he  had  very  often 
to  change  his  situation.  He  had  a  fierce  set  of 
negroes  to  deal  with  on  the  estate  he  was  then 
managing,  many  of  them  being  of  the  Coromantee 
race,  and  few  persons  were  surprised,  though  many 
were  shocked,  when  it  became  known  that  he  had 
been  waylaid  by  a  party  of  negroes  on  his  return 
home  late  at  night  and  chopped  to  pieces.  His 
negro  boy  was  with  him,  riding  a  little  distance 
behind,  when  the  assassins,  all  entirely  naked,  set 
upon  the  unfortunate  man  in  the  dark.  The  boy 
fled  upon  his  mule,  no  attempt  being  made  to  in- 
tercept him,  and  left  his  master  to  his  fate.  And 
a  dreadful  fate  it  was,  for  he  was  found  by  those 
who  went  in  search  of  him  hewed  in  fragments 
with  cutlasses,  and  those  who  did  it  kept  their 
own  counsel  so  well  that  they  were  never  discov- 
ered. Another  of  those  who  joined  in  the  toast 
was  supposed  to  have  been  murdered.  He  was 
poisoned,  and  died  in  great  agony.     He  was  a  Mr. 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  141 

S.,  in  mercantile  life,  carrying  on  business  as  a 
general  storekeeper.  He  had  cast  aside  a  quad- 
roon woman  who  had  been  his  housekeeper  for 
3^ears,  and  was  the  mother  of  several  of  his  chil- 
dren, and  had  put  another  woman  in  her  place. 
A  proceeding  of  this  kind  has  cost  many  a  man 
his  life  in  this  country.  Many  of  the  old  Africans 
possessed  a  knowledge  of  poisonous  plants  grow- 
ing within  the  tropics  with  which  scientific  men 
were  not  acquainted,  a  knowledge  often  turned  to 
dangerous  account  in  Obeah  practices,  and  some- 
times resorted  to  for  purposes  of  revenge.  It  is 
very  probable  that  the  cast-off  mistress  found 
some  means  of  reaching  her  quondam  protector 
with  one  of  these  powerful  vegetable  poisons, 
but  so  skillfully  and  secretly,  that  no  traces  could 
be  discovered  of  the  agency  through  which  the 
deed  was  accomplished.  Another  of  the  party, 
a  Mr.  L.,  shot  himself.  Such,  at  least,  was  the 
conclusion  arrived  at  concerning  his  case,  for  he 
was  found  shot  through  the  head,  the  ball  having 
passed  upward  through  his  mouth,  scattering  the 
brains  all  around.  He  also  was  in  business  as  a 
general  dealer,  and  his  affairs  were  found  to  be 
much  involved,  and  mixed  up  with  many  fraudu- 
lent transactions.  He  had  lived  a  wild,  profligate 
life,  far  beyond  his  means,  and  having  got  hope- 
lessly involved  in  debt  with  all  who  would  trust  him, 
he  settled  with  all  his  creditors  at  once  by  means 
of  a  pistol-ball.  The  same  day  that  L.  shot  him- 
self, a  Mr.  T.,  an  intimate  friend  of  his,  was  killed 
by  the  bursting  of  a  gun.     Both  belonged  to  the 


142         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

infidel  club,  and  both  were  present  when  the  toast 
was  proposed,  entering  very  readily  into  the  pro- 
posal, Avhile  some  were  disposed  to  hang  back. 
T.  had  gone  out  with  some  friends  to  shoot  wild 
pigeons,  and  the  first  time  he  attempted  to  fire, 
the  weapon  he  carried  burst  into  fragments,  one 
of  which  was  driven  through  the  face  into  his 
head,  inflicting  a  wound  which  proved  mortal  in  a 
few  hours.  Then  there  was  a  Mr.  B.,  overseer  of 
an  estate,  who  met  his  death  in  going  home  from 
the  town.  He  was  a  hard  drinker,  and  frequently 
went  home  intoxicated  when  he  visited  the  town. 
On  this  occasion  he  had  indulged  more  freely  than 
usual,  and  driving  home  in  his  gig,  he  ran  the 
wheel  of  his  vehicle  upon  a  bank,  by  which  it  was 
overturned,  and,  falling  upon  his  head,  his  neck 
was  dislocated,  and  he  died  upon  the  spot  where 
he  fell.  The  whole  of  these  casualties  occurred 
within  a  very  few  weeks — not  more,  I  believe, 
than  four  or  five,  and  only  two  of  that  profane 
party  were  left  alive  :  the  man  at  whose  house  the 
party  had  assembled,  and  who  was  compelled  by 
his  drunken  companions,  under  threats  of  violence 
and  death,  to  go  with  them  in  their  daring  act  of 
profanity,  and  the  person  who  occupied  the  chair 
on  the  occasion  and  suggested  the  drinking  of 
the  toast.  What  effect  was  produced  upon  the 
mind  of  the  latter  by  the  sad  fate  which  overtook 
his  companions  in  such  rapid  succession  I  cannot 
tell.  Many  persons  who  had  become  acquainted 
with  the  facts  relating  to  that  last  meeting  of  the 
Hell-Fire  Club,  and  the  blasphemous  orgies  that 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  143 

attended  it,  looked  on  with  awe,  for  they  regarded 
these  casualties  which  came  upon  the  company  of 
blasphemers  as  the  judgments  of  Almighty  God. 
And  this  feeling  was  terribly  strengthened  when,  a 
few  weeks  later,  they  saw  the  leader  in  the  act  by 
which  God  was  so  daringly  and  wickedly  defied, 
also  s^vept  away  from  the  midst  of  the  living  by  a 
very  horrible  death." 

My  informant  then  proceeded  to  relate  the  par- 
ticulars connected  with  the  death  of  this  individ- 
ual, which  were  of  such  a  character  as  not  to  ad- 
mit of  their  being  minutely  stated  here.  While 
on  a  journey  he  received  injury  from  the  incau- 
tious use  of  a  poisonous  plant,  that  produced  in- 
flammation, gangrene,  mortification,  and  death. 
The  death  scene  of  this  man  was  very  fearful. 
To  the  excruciating  physical  torture  he  had  to 
endure  were  added  the  terror  and  anguish  of  de- 
spair. When  his  energies  were  prostrated  by  the 
agonizing  pain  which  had  seized  upon  him,  and 
death  stared  him  in  the  face ;  when  the  world,  for 
which  alone  he  had  lived,  was  fading  away,  and 
the  dread  realities  of  the  eternal  world  were  all 
around  him,  then  how  eagerly  would  he  have 
turned  to  the  Blessed  One  whom  he  had  in  wan- 
ton wickedness  blasphemed  and  defied  !  But  he 
could  not  pray.  He  dared  not  hope  that  God 
would  hear  him  now,  and  he  howled  and  raved 
and  blasphemed  God  in  his  delirium  until  nature 
was  exhausted  and  life  failed,  and  the  wretched 
soul  of  the  blasphemer  passed  beyond  the  vail  to 
appear  before  its  Maker. 


144         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

"  I  never  heard,"  my  informant  said,  in  reply  to 
a  question  of  mine  upon  the  subject,  "that  any 
other  meeting  of  the  infidel  club  was  held  after-  . 
ward.  I  believe  some  who  once  belonged  to  it 
still  survive,  but  these  judgments  of  the  Almighty 
broke  up  the  unholy  association,  and  it  became 
extinct.  Those  who  had  formed  part  of  the  skep- 
tic league  were  too  much  horrified  to  have  any 
thing  more  to  do  with  a  fraternity  against  which 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  had  been  so  manifestly  lifted 
up.  Not  a  few  who  had  made  a  boast  of  infidelity 
were  silenced,  if  not  cured  of  their  skepticism. 
This  was  the  case  with  the  individual  who  is  so 
recently  deceased.  He  was  greatly  alarmed  by 
the  fate  of  his  associates  in  wickedness,  and  I  be- 
lieve he  repented.  If  ever  a  man  prayed  earnestly 
for  pardon  I  believe  he  did,  and  he  became  a 
changed  man." 

"  I  think,"  I  replied,  "  that  the  fact  of  his  life 
having  been  lengthened  out  for  so  many  years 
after  his  associates  were  taken  away  may  be  justly 
regarded  as  an  indication  that  he  did  not  pray  in 
vain.  When  David,  through  Nathan's  rebuke, 
was  turned  to  God  again,  and  made  the  acknowl- 
edgment, 'I  have  sinned,'  the  prophet  was  com- 
missioned to  say,  '  The  Lord  also  hath  put  away 
thy  sin.'  His  conscience  appears  to  have  been 
less  hardened  than  theirs,  as  he  was  only  induced 
to  join  them  in  their  excess  of  wickedness  under 
pressure,  and  it  was  in  consequence  of  his  being 
wrought  upon  by  the  sudden  death  of  some  of  his 
associates  that   the    facts  were  brought   to  light. 


The  Hell-Fire  Club.  145 

Otherwise  we  should  never  have  known  the  full 
extent  of  the  depravity  and  blasphemy  which  char- 
acterized that  club  of  infidel  opposers  of  the  truth, 
or  the  judgments  that  swept  them  from  the  earth. 
If  he  had  not  made  known  what  took  place  at  that 
last  meeting,  when  God  was  so  profanely  set  at 
naught,  the  destruction  that  came  so  rapidly  upon 
the  offenders  would  have  been  looked  upon  merely 
as  the  ordinary  casualties  of  colonial  life.  My 
mind  has  been  deeply  impressed  with  the  occur- 
rences of  the  last  few  years  in  the  breaking  up  of 
the  Colonial  Church  Union,  which  was  a  conspir- 
acy against  God  and  his  truth,  and  the  judgments 
that  fell  upon  so  many  of  the  chapel  destroyers, 
most  of  whom  have  come  to  a  violent  and  untime- 
ly end.  I  had  heard  of  this  '  Hell-Fire  Club,'  and 
sometimes  have  seen  a  reference  made  to  it  by 
newspaper  correspondents,  but  I  never  could  suc- 
ceed in  gaining  any  knowledge  of  its  history  until 
now.  Nor  was  I  aware  that  it  originated  in  the 
persecutions  to  which  missionaries  were  subjected 
at  Morant  Bay  many  years  ago.  When  I  was  at 
Morant  Bay,  a  little  while  since,  I  visited  the  dun- 
geon in  which  the  missionaries  were  imprisoned. 
The  whole  history  is  very  instructive,  and  exhibits 
an  impressive  comment  upon  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist  concerning  those  who  league  themselves 
together  in  opposition  to  the  cause  of  Christ : 
'  Thou  shalt  break  them  with  a  rod  of  iron ;  thou 
shalt  dash  them  in  pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel. 
Kiss  the  Son,  lest  he  be  angry,  and  ye  perish  from 
the  way,  when  his  v.rath  is  kindled  but  a  little.' 


146         Romance  Without  Fiction 

The  first  part  of  the  quotation  receives  illustra- 
tion from  the  fate  which  befell  the  clique  of  blas- 
phemers; the  latter  from  the  sparing  mercy  exer- 
cised toward  him  who  repented  and  humbled 
himself  before  God." 

The  torrent  that  swept  the  valley  may  be  led  to  turn  a  mill. 
The  wild  electric  flash,  that  could  have  kindled  comets, 
May  by  the  ductile  wire  give  ease  to  an  ailing  child. 
For  outward  matter  or  event  fashion  not  the  character  within  ; 
But  each  man,  yielding  or  resisting,  fashioneth  his  mind  for 
himself. 

Planets  govern  not  the  soul,  nor  guide  the  destinies  of  man  ; 
But  trifles,  lighter  than  straws,  are  levers  in  the  building  up 

of  character. 
A  man  hath  the  tiller  in  his  hand,  and  may  steer  against  the 

current, 
Or  may  glide  down  idly  with  the  stream,  till  his  vessel  founder 

in  the  whirlpool. 


The  Blacksmith's  Wedding.  147 


VII. 

The  Blacksmith's  Wedding. 

There  is  a  Power 
Unseen,  that  rules  the  illimitable  world, 
That  guides  its  motions,  from  the  brightest  star 
To  the  least  dust  of  this  sin-tainted  mold: 
While  man,  who  madly  deems  himself  the  lord 
Of  all,  is  naught  but  weakness  and  dependence. — Thomson. 


Cid 


MPORTANT  issues  sometimes  proceed  from 
'^^^  very  insignificant  circumstances,  and  grand 
results  from  unpromising  beginnings.  It  was 
in  those  days  when  slavery  spread  its  gloomy 
shadow  over  the  land  that  a  missionary,  residing 
near  the  western  extremity  of  Jamaica,  was  cross- 
ing the  island  from  a  southern  town  to  the  capital 
of  the  country  situated  on  the  northern  shore. 
He  was  on  horseback,  and  not  very  superbly 
mounted  for  the  long  and  fatiguing  ride  which  he 
had  undertaken.  The  early  part  of  his  journey 
lay  for  some  miles  across  a  wide-stretching  savan- 
na, where  the  roads  are  constructed  with  logs  of 
Ugnum-vitcB  and  logwood,  laid  across,  and  covered 
over  with  mud  thrown  up  from  either  side.  This, 
when  hardened  and  baked  in  the  burning  rays  of 
the  tropical  sun,  makes,  in  the  dry  weather,  a  tol- 
erably good  pathway  for  horses  and  vehicles;  but 
in  the  long  rainy  seasons  it  becomes  an  extended 

quagmire  impassable  to  vehicles  of  any  descrip- 
10 


14^    Romance  Without  Fiction. 

tion,  and  through  which  the  traveler  on  horseback 
has  to  pick  his  way  with  the  utmost  care  to  avoid 
the  danger  of  breaking  the  legs  of  his  horse 
through  his-  stepping  into  some  of  the  deep  holes 
with  which  the  road  abounds,  and  which  are  all 
the  more  perilous  as,  being  filled  with  water  by  the 
daily  rains,  their  depth  cannot  be  very  readily 
discerned. 

Threading  his  way  slowly  and  carefully  for  more 
than  two  hours  along  this  difficult  road,  and  often 
sinking  nearly  to  the  girths  in  the  treacherous 
ground,  from  which  the  poor  animal  could  extri- 
cate itself  only  by  a  desperate  plunge,  the  travel- 
er arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  bespat- 
tered to  the  shoulders '  with  the  mud  through 
which  for  seven  weary  miles  he  had  been  urg- 
ing his  toilsome  way.  Here  the  road,  though 
still  rough,  became  more  solid  and  pleasant  to 
travel,  tending  upward  along  the  rocky  mountain 
side ;  its  windings  opening  up  to  view  beautiful 
valleys  overspread  with  villages,  and  abounding 
with  the  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the  tropics.  Nu- 
merous cottage  gardens  lay  spread  over  the  vale, 
or  occupied  the  slopes  of  the  hills,  all  of  them 
filled  with  fruit  trees  of  different  kinds  ;  the  cocoa- 
nut,  the  plantain  and  the  banana,  the  star-apple 
and  all  the  varieties  of  the  orange,  grape  fruit, 
lime  and  shaddock  exhibiting  their  rich  and 
tempting  burdens,  and  discovering  the  inexhaust- 
ible richness  of  a  land  which,  but  for  the  a  ices 
and  cruelties  of  man,  might  be  an  earthly  paradise. 
Slowly  he  pursues  his  way ;  for  he  compassionates 


The  Blacksmith's    Wedding.  149 

the  poor  beast  whose  powers,  by  no  means  exu- 
berant, have  been  largely  exhausted  in  bearing  him 
through  the  heavy  roads  that  cost  him  so  much 
time  and  trouble  to  traverse.  And  he  does  not 
forget  that  the  path  before  him,  for  some  miles,  is 
a  steep  ascent,  leading  over  the  range  of  hills  and 
mountains  which  form  the  great  backbone  of  the 
island.  The  sun,  now  high  in  the  firmament,  pours 
down  a  full  tide  of  heat ;  and  it  is  with  a  feeling  of 
grateful  relief  that,  after  climbing  the  rugged  path 
for  several  miles,  he  enters  an  avenue  formed  by 
the  plume-like  branches  of  the  bamboo.  These, 
springing  up  from  either  side  of  the  road  in  luxu- 
riant growth,  and  meeting  above  at  a  height  of 
twelve  or  fifteen  yards,  form  an  umbrageous  arch 
almost  impervious  to  the  rays  of  the  sun,  deliciously 
cool  and  grateful,  conveying  to  the  mind  of  the 
wearied,  sun-scorched  traveler  a  pleasant  sense 
of  the  meaning  of  the  Scripture  metaphor,  "the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land." 

From  this  delightful  shade,  which  extends  over 
several  miles,  he  emerges  high  up  among  the  hills, 
to  feel  again  the  full  force  of  the  brilliant  tropical 
heat,  through  which  he  winds  his  way  until  he  has 
accomplished  the  most  fatiguing  half  of  his  jour- 
ney. Four  hours'  toil  has  pretty  well  exhausted 
both  man  and  beast,  and  he  feels  desirous  of 
turning  into  one  of  the  habitations  near  the  road  to 
obtain  a  little  rest  and  shelter.  His  path  now  lies 
through  a  country  divided  into  large  cattle-farms, 
called  pens,  with  their  retinue  of  overseers,  book- 
keepers, drivers,  and  slaves.     At  any  of  these,  he 


150         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

is  well  aware,  he  could  call  and  obtain  refresh- 
ment both  for  himself  and  his  horse ;  for  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  Jamaica  planters  is  proverbial.  And 
although  the  planters  almost  universally  look  with 
an  unfriendly  eye  upon  missionaries,  yet  even  from 
them  would  not  be  withheld,  at  any  of  the  planta- 
tions, the  hospitality  which  it  is  the  custom  freely 
to  accord  to  all  travelers  who  m.ay  request  it. 
But  he  prefers  to  seek  the  rest  he  needs  at  some 
more  lowly  habitation.  He  has  an  indistinct  recol 
lection  of  an  old  house  situated  near  the  roadside, 
from  whence  he  heard  the  music  of  the  anvil  when 
he  passed  that  way  before ;  and  in  due  time  the 
gate-way  with  its  shattered  pillars  in  front  of  the 
blacksmith's  shop  gladdens  his  sight,  and  holds  out 
the  promise  of  at  least  an  hour  or  two's  repose. 

Riding  to  the  foot  of  the  rickety  wooden  steps 
which  lead  up,  in  front  of  the  smithy,  to  the 
blacksmith's  house  above,  he  addresses  himself  to 
a  good-looking  colored  woman,  whose  age  may 
approach  thirty  years,  and  whose  complexion  in- 
dicates more  of  European  than  African  blood 
flowing  in  her  veins.  He  soon  ascertains  that  he 
will  be  quite  welcome  to  alight  and  rest  himself 
there,  and  that  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining a  bundle  of  Guinea-grass  for  his  horse  and 
refreshment  for  himself.  Dismounting,  he  com- 
mits the  weary  steed  to  the  care  of  a  lad  some 
nine  or  ten  years  of  age,  the  son  of  his  colored 
hostess,  who  undertakes  to  rub  him  down  and  sup- 
ply him  with  grass  and  water;  and  then  the  trav- 
eler, after  exchanging  a  word  or  two  of  greeting 


TJie  Blacksmith's   Wedding.  151 

with  the  blacksmith  himself,  of  whose  soot)'  visage 
he  has  caught  a  glimpse  in  approaching  the  dwell- 
ing, ascends  the  stairs.  Through  a  small  piazza, 
or  gallery,  he  enters  the  house,  receiving  a  polite 
welcome  from  the  woman,  and  a  broad,  earnest 
stare  from  two  or  three  little  urchins,  who  cling  to 
their  mother,  each  clad  in  a  long  loose  single  gar- 
ment, calculated  rather  to  afford  cool  comfort  in  a 
tropical  climate  than  to  meet  the  requirements  of 
more  refined  society. 

The  lower  part  of  the  building,  which  is  the 
blacksmith's  workshop,  is  a  strong  stone  erection  ; 
but  the  upper  story  is  of  wood,  upon  which  time  is 
doing  its  work,  and  reducing  it  rapidly  to  a  state 
of  considerable  dilapidation.  Having  deposited 
himself  on  a  broad  wooden  settle,  which  does  duty 
as  a  sofa,  his  valise  serving  the  purpose  of  a  pillow, 
the  wearied  traveler  reclines  there  very  comfort- 
ably ;  while  his  good-humored  hostess,  with  bust- 
ling, cheerful  activity,  addresses  herself  to  the  task 
of  getting  breakfast  for  the  stranger.  A  fowl, 
caught  by  one  of  the  youngsters,  and  hastily  de- 
capitated, plucked,  and  dismembered,  is  in  a 
short  time  hissing  and  sputtering  in  the  frying-pan. 
And,  in  due  time,  with  a  good  supply  of  fresh 
eggs  and  coffee,  and  floury  yams  and  cocoas,  (the 
tanniers  of  some  of  the  West  India  colonies,)  a 
breakfast  is  served  up  sufificient  to  satisfy  the  keen 
hunger  of  the  unexpected  guest ;  the  nice  clean 
table-cloth,  and  the  well-polished,  though  very 
common,  plates,  serving  to  give  zest  to  the  wel- 
come meal. 


152         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

While  occupied  in  discussing  and  enjoying  the 
palatable  viands,  his  smiling  hostess,  who  has  rec- 
ognized in  him  one  of  the  missionary  preachers 
she  has  two  or  three  times,  with  others  from  the 
surrounding  neighborhood,  traveled  half  a  dozen 
leagues  to  hear,  stands  by  to  render  whatever  serv- 
ice her  guest  may  require,  and  he  enters  into  con- 
versation with  her.  From  her  he  learns  that 
among  the  slaves  belonging  to  the  pens  and 
plantations  all  around  there  are  many  who  are  in 
the  habit  of  going  to  the  Bay,  some  eighteen  miles 
distant,  whenever  they  can  get  an  opportunity  of 
doing  so,  to  attend  the  missionary  services  and 
hear  the  word  of  life.  It  is  but  seldom  they  can 
undertake  the  journey,  owing  to  the  distance  and 
the  little  time  that  is  allowed  them  to  labor  for 
themselves — only  one  Sabbath  in  a  fortnight.  But, 
above  all,  they  are  hindered  by  the  persecuting 
violence  of  the  planters,  who  are  sternly  opposed 
to  the  missionary  teaching  of  the  slaves,  and  freely 
use  the  cat  and  the  cart-whip  to  curb  and  keep 
down  the  religious  tendencies  of  the  poor  negro 
people  under  their  care. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  discover  from  the  woman's 
tones  and  manner  that  a  lively  interest  in  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  religious  slaves,  and  in  the  teaching 
of  the  missionaries,  has  been  awakened  in  hep 
own  breast. 

Turning  the  conversation  upon  her  own  relig- 
ious condition  and  prospects,  he  learns  that  she 
has  never  lived  within  sound  of  a  religious  teach- 
er's voice  ;  never  heard  of  Christ  until  she  went  to 


The  Blacksmith's    Wedding.  153 

hear  the  missionaries  within  the  last  two  or  three 
years ;  and  that,  ever  since,  she  has  thought  and 
felt  much  about  God  and  her  soul.  No  one  ever 
taught  her  to  pray  ;  but  she  has  sometimes  tried  to 
call  upon  God  just  as  she  has  heard  some  of  the 
praying  slaves  when,  on  two  or  three  occasions, 
she  attended  their  nocturnal  meetings.  Her 
mother  lived  with  the  owner  of  the  estate  close  at 
hand,  who  made  her  free  that  her  children  might 
also  be  free  ;  and  he  built  for  the  mother  the  house 
whose  roof  now  covered  them.  When  her  mother- 
died  she,  the  only  child,  inherited  a  life-interest 
in  the  dwelling  and  the  inclosed  piece  of  land 
which  surrounded  it.  The  present  possessor  of 
the  estate  had  endeavored  to  deprive  her  of  her 
little  possession,  but  in  vain,  as  her  life-interest  in 
the  property  was  clearly  secured.  At  her  death 
it  would  revert  to  the  estate. 

In  the  course  of  this  conversation,  which  con- 
tinued long  after  the  breakfast  was  over,  the  mis- 
sionary discovered  that  no  religious  or  legal  cere- 
mony had  sanctioned  her  union  with  the  black- 
smith ;  and  that  it  was  only  since  she  had  heard 
of  the  marriages  performed  by  the  missionaries 
among  the  slaves  on  the  plantations  around  that 
she  had  felt  any  misgivings  about  her  own  union 
with  the  father  of  her  children  and  the  propriety 
of  her  present  mode  of  life.  Further  discourse  on 
this  subject  threw  light  upon  the  woman's  mind, 
and  showed  her  that  something  was  wanting  to 
render  the  union  valid  and  complete  ;  and  she  at 
once  expressed  her  wish  to  be  married,  if  it  could  be 


154         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

done,  as  she  desired  above  all  things  to  lead  a  holy 
life  and  go  to  heaven.  Assured  that  there  was 
nothing  to  prevent  the  marriage  taking  place,  she 
then  inquired  how  and  when  it  could  be  done. 
The  missionary,  who  was  aware  that  no  law  relat- 
ing to  marriage  had  ever  been  placed  on  the  stat- 
ute book  of  the  colony,  where  unbounded  licen- 
tiousness was  the  rule,  and  marriage  a  very  occa- 
sional occurrence,  and  that  therefore  no  legal  re- 
strictions stood  in  the  way,  told  her  that  she  and 
the  blacksmith  might  be  married  whenever  they 
chose,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  the  matrimo- 
nial bond  should  not  be  entered  into  before  he 
took  his  departure  if  both  the  parties  were 
agreed. 

No  time  better  than  the  present,  the  woman 
thought,  and  she  promptly  disappeared  to  consult 
the  gentleman  in  the  smithy.  The  ringing  sound 
of  the  anvil  suddenly  ceases,  and  up  through  the 
single  boards  which  form  at  once  the  floor  above 
and  the  ceiling  beneath,  is  heard  the  female  voice 
setting  forth,  in  eloquent  strains,  the  evils  of  a 
course  of  life  which  God  hath  not  blessed,  and  urg- 
ing the  propriety  of  doing  away  the  reproach  by  an 
immediate  marriage,  which  "the  parson  "  up  stairs 
is  ready  to  perform.  The  blacksmith,  a  quiet,  taci- 
turn, industrious  artisan,  is  of  a  similar  complex- 
ion to  that  of  the  lady,  and,  like  her,  frse  from 
the  trammels  of  slavery.  He  sees  no  objection 
that  can  be  urged  to  the  proposal  of  an  immedi- 
ate marriage,  and  quickly  yields  himself  up  to  do 
whatever  may  be   required   of  him  in  the  matter, 


The  Blacksmith's    Wedding.  155 

under  the  direction  of  his  more  active  and  al  le 
partner. 

He  is  instructed  to  leave  his  work  and  submit 
himself  to  a  cleansing  process,  which  is  by  no 
means  superfluous,  and  get  into  a  clean  suit  of 
clothes,  while  she  attends  to  such  other  arrange- 
ments as  may  be  requisite. 

After  a  short  consultation  with  the  missionary 
the  woman  departs  to  obtain  two  friends  to  be 
present  on  the  auspicious  occasion,  and  also  to  se- 
cure the  loan  of  a  prayer-book — the  Morning  Serv- 
ice abridged  from  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer, 
which  is  in  use  by  the  missionaries.  James  M., 
the  slave  so  often  flogged  and  punished,  she 
knows  has  both  hymn-book  and  prayer-book,  as 
well  as  a  Bible,  for  he  has  shown  them  to  her ;  and 
as  he  is  now  laid  up  from  a  "  terrible  beating  "  re- 
ceived only  a  day  or  two  ago,  she  can  go  and  bor- 
row the  book  from  him.  In  the  course  of  an  hour 
or-so  she  returns  with  the  book,  and  intimates  that 
the  friends  she  went  for  will  soon  be  on  the  spot. 
By  the  time  she  has  donned  the  clean,  humble 
suit,  in  which  she  appears  a  good-looking,  buxom 
quadroon,  the  invited  guests  make  their  appear- 
ance in  holiday  trim.  Meanwhile  the  blacksmith 
has  got  rid  of  all  traces  of  his  smoky  trade  from 
his  hands  and  face,  and  presents  himself  in  a 
coarse  linen  suit  of  snowy  whiteness,  the  getting 
up  of  which  does  credit  to  the  woman's  skill  as  a 
laundress,  all  ready  to  play  the  part  of  bridegroom 
in  the  ceremony  so  unexpectedly  improvised.  In 
a  short  time  the  mutual  vow  has  been  exchanged, 


156         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  hymeneal  benediction  pronounced,  and  the 
parties  declared  to  be  man  and  wife.  The  mar- 
riage certificate  is  made  out,  duly  attested  by  the 
witnesses  as  well  as  the  officiating  minister,  who 
gives*  the  married  pair  to  understand  that  on  his 
return  home  the  marriage  will  be  duly  recorded  in 
the  marriage  register,  kept  at  the  mission  chapel  at 
the  Bay. 

The  incidents  we  have  related  are  linked  with 
important  results,  affecting  the  unchanging  desti- 
nies of  many  souls  all  around  that  neighborhood. 
The  missionary  declines  the  urgent  invitation  of 
the  bride  to  stay  and  get  some  dinner  before  he 
continues  his  journey.  With  smiling  satisfaction 
at  the  unanticipated  events  of  the  day,  she  offers 
to  get  dinner  ready  with  all  possible  expedition, 
that  he  may  not  be  unduly  detained.  This,  how- 
ever, he  is  under  the  necessity  of  declining,  as  the 
day  is  now  far  advanced,  and  half  his  journey — 
the  least  laborious  half,  as  it  is  chiefly  down  hill — 
yet  remains  to  be  accomplished.  Neither  host 
nor  hostess  will  listen  to  any  offer  of  remuneration 
for  the  substantial  breakfast  provided  for  him  ;  and 
both  warmly  invite  the  missionary,  when  he  returns, 
and  whenever  he  passes  that  way,  to  make  the  house 
his  resting-place. 

As  the  missionary  looks  abroad  from  the  house 
the  scene  spread  before  his  eyes  all  around  is  one 
of  enchanting  loveliness.  For  miles  in  all  direc- 
tions stretch  the  "pens,"  or  large  cattle-farms, 
forming  an  important  part  of  the  properties  or  es- 
tates  of  Jamaica,  where  are  bred  the  fine  horned 


■"-vj 


The  Blacksmith's  Wedding.  157 

cattle,  horses,  and  mules,  required  for  carrying  on 
the  cultivation  and  manufacture  of  the  sugar  plan- 
tations. Large  fields  of  luxuriant  Guinea-grass 
growing  ten  or  twelve  feet  high ;  wide-spreading 
pasture  fields  of  common  grass  all  inclosed  by 
stone  walls,  and  thickly  studded  with  clumps  of 
cedar  or  broad  leaf,  and  orange-trees,  to  afford 
shelter  to  the  cattle  from  the  tropical  sun,  present 
themselves  to  his  admiring  gaze.  The  white  build- 
ings of  these  numerous  properties,  with  the  clus- 
tered huts  of  the  slaves,  surrounded  by  innumer- 
able cocoanut  and  other  fruit-trees,  give  variety 
and  beauty  to  the  landscape.  Here  and  there  the 
eye  rests  upon  some  giant  ceiba,  or  silk-cotton- 
tree,  whose  immense  but  symmetrical  trunk  shoots 
up  branches  to  a  height  of  seventy  or  eighty  feet 
from  the  midst  of  ten  or  a  dozen  stupendous  but- 
tresses, and  then  throws  abroad  its  wide-spreading 
arms  clothed  with  dense  foliage,  covering  with  its 
ample  shade  almost  half  an  acre  of  ground.  The 
landscape  is  enchanting  in  its  park-like  scenery 
and  perennial  verdure.  But  the  soul  of  the  mis- 
sionary is  stirred  within  him  as  he  think'j  upon 
the  fact  that  among  the  many  thousands  who 
live  within  the  range  of  his  vision  the  Maker  of 
all  this  beauty  and  grandeur  is  scarcely  known, 
and  that  the  twofold  curse  of  slavery  and  perse- 
cution rests  upon  the  few  who  care  for  their  own 
souls,  and  dare  to  call  upon  His  name. 

Suddenly  the  thought  occurs  to  him.  Whence 
comes  the  suggestion .?  May  not  the  strange  mar- 
riage which  has  just  taken  place  prepare  the  way 


158  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

for  bringing  the  Gospel  of  Christ  to  this  dark 
neighborhood  ?  The  land  all  around,  for  miles, 
is  included  in  the  large  properties  whose  mana- 
gers, as  one  man,  are  combined  to  oppose  the 
Christian  instruction  of  the  slaves.  But  would  it 
not  be  practicable,  if  the  newly  married  pair  will 
consent  to  brave  the  reproach  and  opposition  that 
are  sure  to  follow,  to  have  religious  services  on 
the  land  placed,  for  the  term  of  the  woman's  life, 
beyond  the  control  of  the  proprietor  and  authori- 
ties of  the  estate  of  which  it  has  been,  and  is  again 
at  her  death  to  be,  a  part  ?  Turning  to  the  woman, 
he  inquires  if  she  would  not  like  to  have  mission- 
ary services  brought  to  the  neighborhood ;  for 
there  are  none  within  eighteen  miles.  Her  face  be- 
comes radiant  with  joy  at  the  thought;  and  when 
the  missionary  suggests  that  their  own  premises 
may  serve  for  the  purpose,  both  husband  and  wife 
yield  a  cheerful  and  joyous  assent.  The  traveler 
then  joyfully  resumes  his  journey,  cheered  by  the 
persuasion  that  the  Lord  has  directed  his  footsteps 
in  a  way  that  will  lead  to  the  enlargement  of  the 
work  he  has  at  heart  and  the  salvation  of  many  souls. 
The  tidings  are  soon  spread  abroad  that  the 
missionary  is  coming  to  preach  at  the  black- 
smith's shop  at  Ramble.  Hundreds  all  around 
are  gladdened  by  the  intelligence  ;  most  of  all  the 
slaves,  who  have  found  it  so  difficult  to  get  to  the 
Bay,  in  order  that  they  might  hear  about  Jesus 
Christ  and  the  way  to  heaven.  Upon  some  others 
the  effect  is  different.  The  planters  all  around  are 
resolved  if  possible  to  prevent  the  invasion  of  their 


The  Blacksmith's  Wedding.  159 

locality  by  missionaries,  and  one  after  another  goes 
to  the  blacksmith,  some  persuading,  others  threat- 
ening him  with  the  loss  of  custom,  and  even  hold- 
ing out  threats  of  a  darker  kind.  Were  it  not  for 
his  wife  it  is  possible  he  might  give  way  to  the 
urgent  remonstrances  addressed  to  him,  for  he  as 
yet  has  felt  but  little  concern  about  religion  and 
his  soul.  But  she  remains  immovable  :  since  that 
missionary's  visit  which  led  to  her  marriage  she 
has  felt  concerning  God  and  her  soul's  destiny  as 
she  never  did  before.  She  has  been  conversing 
with  some  of  the  praying,  converted  slaves,  and 
her  mind  is  made  up  to  seek  religion  and  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come.  She  comes  to  the  res- 
cue, standing  by  her  husband's  side  and  vindicat- 
ing their  right  to  do  as  they  please  with  the  prop- 
erty, and  to  devote  it  to  such  uses  as  they  see  fit 
during  her  life-time. 

The  appointed  Sabbath  arrives,  and  the  mis- 
sionary is  there,  having  gone  thither  on  the  pre- 
ceding evening  to  be  ready  for  an  early  morning 
service.  A  small  room,  just  large  enough  to  con- 
tain a  bedstead,  table,  and  chair,  has  been  set 
apart  as  a  prophet's  chamber.  The  bed  linen  is 
coarse,  but  clean  and  comfortable,  and  there  the 
minister  is  to  find  accommodation  whenever  he 
comes  to  visit  the  neighborhood.  Late  at  night 
numerous  visitors  arrive  to  see  "the  parson,"  all 
of  whom  are  slaves  from  the  surrounding  proper- 
ties, and  most  extravagant  are  their  demonstra- 
tions of  joy  that  the  Gospel  is  to  be  brought  into 
the  midst  of  their  own  homes.     It  is  in  the  smithy 


i6o        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

that  the  services  are  to  be  held,  and  many  sturdy 
hands  set  to  work  to  prepare  the  place  for  the  oc- 
casion. It  is  a  labor  of  love.  Cart-wheels,  and  old 
iron,  and  the  implements  of  the  blacksmith's  trade, 
are  all  carried  outside  the  buildings.  The  ashes 
are  cleared  away  from  the  forge,  and  the  rough 
floor  swept  clean,  and  it  is  but  little  short  of  mid- 
night when  the  preparations  are  completed.  When 
the  cheerful  workers  take  their  departure  they 
leave  behind  them  an  ample  supply  of  fowls,  eggs, 
vegetables,  and  fruit,  which  they  have  brought  to 
contribute  to  the  missionary's  entertainment. 

Daylight  has  scarcely  dawned  when  the  mission- 
ary is  aroused  by  voices  underneath,  and  discovers 
that  the  people  are  beginning  to  assemble  for  the 
early  service.  Looking  through  the  jalousie  win- 
dow, which  admits  both  light  and  air  to  his  room, 
he  can  see  through  the  gray  dawn  numerous  par- 
ties crossing  the  pastures  from  various  directions. 
All  are  clothed  in  the  coarse  blue  cloth  garments 
which  they  receive  yearly  from  their  owners,  and 
which  the  keen  mountain  air  at  such  an  early  hour 
of  the  day,  and  the  heavy  dew  resting  upon  every 
thing  without,  render  necessary  to  these  denizens 
of  a  sunny  clime.  Men,  women,  and  children  are 
flocking  to  the  place,  most  of  them  bearing  coarse 
wooden  chairs  or  small  benches  for  their  own  ac- 
commodation at  the  place  of  prayer.  By  the  time 
the  sun  is  showing  himself  in  a  full  blaze  of  glory 
in  the  east  the  missionary  has  descended  from 
his  chamber  to  commence  the  worship  of  God. 
Every  corner  of  the  blacksmith's  shop  is  crowded; 


The  Blacksmith's  Wedding.  i6l 

bellows,  sloping  chimney,  and  forge,  all  occu- 
pied by  children,  whose  sooty  complexion  seems 
to  harmonize  well  with  the  position  they  occupy, 
and  who  gaze  with  silent  amazement  upon  the 
strange  scene,  never  having  before  looked  upon 
an  assembly  gathered  to  hear  the  preaching  of 
God's  truth.  All  around  the  building  there  is  a 
crowd,  for  the  shop  contains  not  more  than  a 
fourth  of  the  congregation,  and  there  are  five  or 
six  hundred  persons  assembled.  A  short  service 
of  about  an  hour's  duration  closes  with  the  hearty 
amens  of  the  congregation,  many  of  whom  have 
now  heard  a  sermon  for  the  first  time,  and  the 
crowd  disperses,  hastening  homeward  to  prepare 
themselves  for  the  two  other  services  which  are 
to  follow  in  the  course  of  the  day.  Again  in  the 
forenoon  and  afternoon  there  is  a  listening  multi- 
tude yet  larger  than  that  which  was  present  at  the 
earlier  worship.  Nor  is  the  word  preached  in  vain. 
Angels  bear  the  glad  tidings  to  heaven  of  men  and 
women  pricked  in  their  hearts,  and  there  is  joy  in 
the  courts  above  over  repenting  sinners.  Tears 
of  sorrow  for  sin  moisten  many  sable  cheeks,  and 
tears  of  joy  and  gladness  run  down  others  because 
"  the  joyful  sound  "  is  brought  to  their  owu  doors. 
It  is  a  lovely  and  a  lively  scene  that  presents  it- 
self during  the  interval  of  the  morning  and  after- 
noon worship.  Groups  of  men  and  women  gath- 
ered under  the  shade  of  the  orange -trees,  which 
thickly  stud  the  adjacent  pastures,  are  talking  of 
the  things  of  God,  or  engaged  in  prayer.  Valen- 
tine Ward  looked  upon  this  scene  several  years 


i62         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

later,  after  having  preached  his  last  sermon,  and 
finished  an  eminent  career  of  usefulness,  in  that 
blacksmith's  shop.  When  he  beheld  the  classes 
with  their  leaders  grouped  beneath  the  trees  he 
wept  as  he  glorified  God  for  what  he  had  wrought 
among  those  children  of  Africa,  pronouncing  it  to 
be  the  most  interesting  scene  that  had  ever  greeted 
his  eyes,  and  the  Sabbath  spent  there  the  happiest 
of  his  life.  It  was  the  last  of  his  earthly  Sabbaths, 
for  four  days  after  he  was  laid  in  the  grave.  When 
he  was  sinking,  smitten  by  yellow  fever,  in  the  de- 
lU'iimi  of  death  his  imagination  was  still  occupied 
with  the  Sabbath  scene  that  had  so  enchanted 
him,  and  he  continued  to  gaze  upon  it,  and  to 
talk  of  it  until  the  more  glorious  realities  of  eter- 
nity burst  upon  his  vision,  and  he  passed  away  to 
be  forever  with  the  Lord. 

For  several  years  the  blacksmith's  shop  contin- 
ued to  be  used  as  a  place  of  worship.  A  long 
shed  was  erected  by  the  religious  slaves  of  the 
neighborhood  along  one  side  of  the  building,  and 
at  one  end,  thatched  with  cocoa-nut  leaves,  to 
shelter  the  worshipers  from  sun  and  rain.  Lowly 
as  it  was,  it  became  a  center  of  light  to  the  neigh- 
borhood. No  imposing  ritual  was  practiced  there, 
and  no  surpliced  priests  and  choirs  intoned  the 
prayers  and  lessons ;  but  beneath  that  humble 
roof  many  souls  were  born  to  glory — made  wise 
unto  salvation  by  the  faithful  preaching  of  the 
Gospel.  Many  persecuted  slaves,  who  had  en- 
dured the  lash  and  the  gyves  for  the  sake  of  a 
good   conscience,  there    found   comfort  in   their 


The  Blacksmith's  Wedding:  163 

trials,  and  obtained  strength  to  endure  the  grind- 
ing oppression  to  which  they  were  subjected  by 
hireling  overseers.  These  men  hated  the  black- 
smith's shop  and  the  religion  taught  there,  with 
all  who  possessed  it,  because  of  the  unexpected 
checks  they  now  met  with  in  the  indulgence  of  an 
unbridled  sensuality.  But  their  opposition  and 
their  cruelty  were  in  vain.  The  work  of  the  Lord 
went  on,  and  prospered.  Whites,  free  colored 
people,  slaves,  alike  felt  the  power  of  the  truth, 
and  submitted  themselves  to  the  Gospel  yoke, 
becoming,  in  doing  so,  the  freemen  of  the  Lord. 
And  there  in  due  time  infantile  voices  were  heard 
in  the  songs  and  routine  of  the  Sabbath-school, 
learning  to  worship  and  serve  Him  who  said,  "  Suf- 
fer the  little  children  to  come  unto  me." 

Gradually  the  opposition  ceased.  The  planters 
found  that  religion  made  their  servants  trustwor- 
thy, intelligent,  and  faithful.  The  proprietor  of 
the  estate  with  which  the  blacksmith's  shop  was 
connected  began  to  look  with  favorable  eye  upon 
the  services  that  at  first  he  had  so  bitterly  op- 
posed. To  the  surprise  of  many  he  himself 
sought  and  found  the  peace  of  conscience  for 
which  through  many  years  he  had  yearned  with 
an  intensity  of  longing  that  only  a  deep  conscious- 
ness of  guilt  can  produce,  for  his  hands  were 
stained  with  blood.  A  dark  cloiid  had  been  cast 
over  his  life  by  the  fatal  result  of  a  duel  with  a 
former  friend,  arising  out  of  a  drunken  carouse. 
His  friend  had  fallen  by  his  hand,  and  was  gone, 
with  all  his  sins  upon  his  head,  to  face  his  Maker 
11 


164        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  his  Judge.  From  the  moment  he  saw  his  ill- 
fated  companion  fall  dead  before  his  fatal  weapon 
he  had  known  no  peace.  Gloom  settled  upon  his 
soul,  and  he  scarcely  mingled  at  all  with  his  fel- 
low-men. But  the  peace  of  God,  which  came  to 
many  hearts  in  that  blacksmith's  shop,  came  also 
to  him,  and  dispersed  the  gloom  that  had  dark- 
ened his  life  and  prospects.  He  was  enabled  by 
faith  to  cast  his  blood-guiltiness  upon  the  Saviour, 
and  lifted  his  head  in  hope.  The  gift  of  a  suitable 
site  for  a  mission  station  near  the  blacksmith's 
premises  was  one  of  the  fruits  of  the  gracious 
change  he  experienced.  A  chapel  and  parsonage, 
with  a  good  and  commodious  school-room,  were 
in  due  time  erected  there.  It  became  the  head 
of  a  circuit,  bearing  the  name  of  the  venerable 
man  who  there  performed  the  last  act  of  his 
Christian  ministry.  And  the  Mount  Ward  Sta- 
tion, most  delightfully  situated,  stands  a  center  of 
light  and  blessing  to  the  neighborhood,  and  is  des- 
tined, we  trust,  to  be  the  birthplace  of  many  souls 
in  the  generations  of  the  future. 


In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years.   165 


VIII. 

In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years. 

Why  should  old  age  escape  unnoticed  here 

That  sacred  era  to  reflection  dear  ? 

That  peaceful  shore  where  passion  dies  away, 

Like  the  last  wave  tliat  ripples  o'er  the  bay  ? 

O,  if  old  age  were  canceled  from  our  lot, 

Full  soon  would  man  deplore  the  unhallowed  blot ! 

Life's  busy  day  would  want  its  tranquil  even, 

And  earth  would  lose  her  stepping-stone  to  heaven. 

Caroline  Oilman. 

AVING  just  finished  the  Sabbath  morning 
service,  and  attended  to  some  other  pastoral 
duties  in  the  oldest  chapel  in  the  island  of 
Jamaica,  a  chapel  which  bears  the  name  of  the 
good  and  zealous  Doctor  Coke,  the  founder  of  the 
Wesleyan  missions,  the  young  missionary  who  has 
officiated,  and  who  has  been  only  two  or  three 
years  in  the  work,  is  about  to  retire  from  the 
sanctuary.  Before  reaching  the  door  he  is  ac- 
costed by  a  decently-dressed  black  female,  long 
past  the  prime  of  womanhood,  with  the  request 
that  he  will  go  and  visit  a  person  who  is  sick. 

"  Me  come  for  ax  minister  if  him  will  find  time 
in  de  afternoon  to  go  and  visit  a  very  old  woman, 
who  has  been  long  time  in  de  society,  and  is  'bout 
'pon  dying." 

"  You  say  the  person  is  very  old .''  " 


i66         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

"  Yes,  minister.  Him  de  oldest  person  in  de 
town,  and  bin  in  de  society  from  de  time  of  Mr. 
Campbell ;  and  him  bin  quite  old,  minister,  where 
him  first  jiae  the  Church." 

"  Is  she  a  free  person,  or  a  slave .''  " 

"  Old  Moggy  bin  slave,  minister.  Him  bin  come 
to  dis  country  in  slave-ship  'bout  de  time  of  de 
great  urtquake." 

"  The  great  earthquake !  You  surely  do  not* 
mean  the  earthquake  that  destroyed  Port  Royal.?  " 

''  Yes,  minister,  me  believe  so  ;  for  so  me  hear 
dem  say.  Him  quite  old  woman,  minister,  when 
for  me  mammy  bin  one  little  pickaninny  so 
high,  minister,"  holding  her  hand  about  two  feet 
and  a  half  from  the  ground,  to  indicate  that 
her  mother,  at  the  time  alluded  to,  was  a  very 
little  girl. 

Having  certified  himself  concerning  the  locality 
to  which  the  desired  visit  is  to  be  directed,  he 
dismisses  the  woman  with  the  promise  that  he 
will  go  and  see  the  sick  person  before  the  evening 
service. 

When  the  afternoon  is  sufficiently  advanced  to 
modify,  in  some  measure,  the  fierce  heat  of  a 
tropical  sun,  and  enable  him  to  thread  his  way 
through  the  streets  within  the  shadow  of  the 
houses,  the  young  missionary  directs  his  footsteps 
to  that  part  of  the  city  where  old  Moggy,  if  the 
account  he  has  received  be  correct,  is  passing 
through  the  closing  scenes  of  a  strangely  pro- 
tracted life.  After  some  inquiry  he  finds  the  yard 
which  has  been  described  to  him.     On  raising  the 


In  Slavery  a  Hutidred  and  Forty  Years.   167 

latch  and  pushing  open  the  somewhat  dilapidated 
door,  he  perceives,  in  company  with  several  others, 
adorned,  like  herself,  in  broad-brimmed  straw  hat 
and  muslin  gown  and  handkerchief,  light,  neat 
and  exquisitely  clean,  the  same  woman  he  had 
conversed  with  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  day.  She 
advances,  with  a  broad  smile  upon  her  face,  to 
welcome  him  with  the  usual  salutation,  "  Glad  for 
see  minister."  The  yard  is  a  square  open  space, 
pertaining  to  a  large  respectable-looking  house  in 
front,  the  out  offices  of  which  occupy  one  side  of 
the  square  :  the  opposite  side  and  the  end  being 
filled  with  a  range  of  negro  rooms,  appearing  to 
have  been  built  and  fitted  with  some  regard  to  the 
comfort  of  those  for  whose  use  they  were  intended. 
Around  the  door  of  one  of  these  apartments  are 
sitting,  upon  wooden  chairs  of  a  very  humble  de- 
scription, the  women  referred  to,  who  all  rise,  and 
courtesy  very  respectfully  to  the  visitor,  and  greet 
him  with,  "  How  d'ye,  me  minister  }  "  or,  "  Glad 
for  see  minister  :  "  their  white  glistening  teeth  con- 
trasting pleasantly  with  the  dusky  hue  of  their 
smiling  countenances.  Preceded  by  one  of  these 
women,  who  has  advanced  to  receive  him,  he 
enters  the  room,  which  is  small  but  clean 
and  comfortable,  and  there,  on  a  low  bed,  sup- 
ported by  several  pillows,  lies  the  object  of  his 
visit. 

She  is  a  negro  woman,  greatly  shrunken  and 
shriveled  by  age  ;  and,  but  for  the  eyes,  which  re- 
tain a  considerable  degree  of  brightness  and 
intelligence,    would    more    resemble    an   unrolled 


i68         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

Egyptian  mummy  than  any  thing  else  he  can 
think  of.  She  lifts  her  eyes  toward  the  minister, 
as  he  advances  to  the  bedside,  with  a  look  of  in- 
quiry ;  but  when  the  woman,  stooping  near  to  her, 
and  speaking  in  a  tone  somewhat  raised,  says, 
"  Moggy,  here  is  minister  come  to  see  you,"  a 
gleam  of  gladness  passes  over  the  wrinkled  features, 
and  she  lifts  her  withered  hand  to  welcome  him. 
Seating  himself  on  a  chair,  which  has  been  politely 
handed  to  him,  the  young  missionary  proceeds  to 
inquire  concerning  her  bodily  ailments.  "  Old 
and  weak,  minister,"  is  the  reply ;  and  he  finds, 
on  extending  his  inquiries  to  those  who  seem  to 
have  charge  of  her,  that  she  exhibits  no  indications 
of  disease,  but  a  general  sinking  of  the  vital 
powers.  The  weary  wheels  of  life,  which  have 
been  going  actively  for  so  many  years,  are  now 
beginning  to  stand  still.  He  then  seeks  to  lead 
her  thoughts  to  other  things,  and  inquires  if  she 
knows  and  feels  the  love  of  Christ.  "  O  yes ! 
massa,"  she  replies  as  a  brighter  light  kindles  in 
her  eyes,  and  seems  to  suffuse  the  entire  counte- 
nance, "  Jesus  bery  precious." 

Although  the  sounds  proceeding  from  her  tooth- 
less mouth  are  weak,  and  not  very  intelligible  to  his 
unaccustomed  ear,  yet,  with  the  help  of  those  around 
who  can  better  understand  what  she  endeavors  to 
express,  he  can  gather  that  she  was  converted  to 
God  under  the  ministry  of  Mr.  Fish,  one  of  the 
earliest  missionaries  to  the  colonies ;  that  she  knew 
Dr.  Coke,  and  heard  him  preach  ;  and  that  she 
was  "  a  very  old   woman  when  Massa  Jesus  par- 


In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years.   169 

doned  her  sins — too  old  for  work."  Having,  to 
her  manifest  comfort  and  joy,  spoken  cheering 
words  about  that  glorious  heaven  so  soon  to  be 
her  home,  and  near  the  very  portals  of  which  she 
is  lingering  until  the  Master  makes  the  sign  for 
her  to  enter,  he  bows  in  prayer  at  the  bedside  of 
the  aged  disciple  and  takes  his  departure.  But 
he  is  resolved,  if  life  is  spared,  to  inquire  further 
about  a  case  which  is  to  him  profoundly  interesting 
beyond  any  that  has  come  within  the  range  of  his 
brief  experience  or  observation. 

The  forenoon  of  the  following  day  finds  the 
missionary  again  at  the  bedside  of  old  Moggy, 
who  seems  to  be  little  changed  from  the  preced- 
ing day.  The  remembrance  of  his  former  visit 
has  not  passed  away  from  her ;  for  the  same  ex- 
pression of  pleasure  passes  over  her  countenance 
that  brightened  it  then,  when  the  same  attendant 
informs  her  that  "  minister  is  come  to  pray  with 
you  again."  A  few  words  about  Jesus  and  his 
dying  love,  and  a  short,  earnest  prayer,  lead  the 
thoughts  of  the  old  Christian  up  to  God.  Her 
faculties  seem  to  brighten  as  the  remembrance 
of  her  Saviour's  gracious  dealings  with  her,  and 
the  glorious  future  that  lies  before  her,  passes 
through  her  mind,  and  she  gives  repeated  utter- 
ance to  the  expression,  "Bless  the  Lord!  " 

Leading  her  memory  back  upon  the  past,  he 
questions  her  concerning  the  principal  facts  of  her 
history,  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  whether  she  is 
really  of  such  advanced  age  as  the  facts  before  re- 
ferred to  would    seem   to   indicate.     That   she   is 


I/O         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

extremely  old  her  appearance  testifies  ;  and  per- 
sons well  advanced  in  age  can  only  remember 
Moggy  as  a  very  old  woman  when  they  were  very 
young.  Her  own  account  of  herself  has  always 
been  that  she  was  brought  from  Africa  in  a  slave- 
ship,  and  that  she  was  stolen  and  carried  off  from 
her  parents  "  when  me  pickaninny  so,  minister," 
placing  her  hand  so  as  to  indicate  the  height  of  a 
child  some  eight  or  ten  years  old.  When  she 
arrived  in  Jamaica  it  was  four  days  after  the 
earthquake  that  destroyed  Port  Royal,  and  the 
people  who  had  escaped  from  that  fearful  visita- 
tion were  living  in  sheds  made  of  cocoa-nut  leaves 
and  branches  of  trees  on  the  spot  where  the  city 
of  Kingston  was  afterward  erected.  He  questions 
her  minutely  upon  all  these  points,  and  she  affirms 
that  it  is  all  true,  and  that  she  remembers  it  well. 
Carried  off  by  violence  from  her  father  and  moth- 
er, she  was  taken  to  the  ship,  and  with  many  others, 
young  and  old,  brought  over  the  sea  to  Jamaica. 
They  were  a  long  time  at  sea ;  and  when  the  ship 
came  to  land  she  saw  the  ruins  of  the  city,  which 
had  been  partially  swallowed  up,  and  she  was  put 
ashore  where  the  people  were  all  living  in  sheds 
and  tents.  The  town  was  built  after  that  upon  the 
same  spot,  and  she  had  lived  there  ever  since.  She 
had  belonged  to  several  owners,  had  never  been 
badly  treated,  but  had  never  been  made  free. 
When  the  missionaries  came  she  went  to  hear  the 
preaching,  and  "  found  out  that  she  was  one  great 
sinner;  and  she  prayed  to  Massa  Jesus,  and  he 
made  her  soul  happy,  and  religion  had  made  her 


In  Slavery  a  Htindred  and  Forty  Years.   1 7 1 

happy  all  the  time,  and  she  was  now  going  home  to 
Jesus,  to  be  happy  forever." 

Moggy  has  no  idea  about  the  number  of  years 
which  have  transpired  in  connection  with  any  part 
of  her  history.  A  few  leading  facts  are  firmly 
rooted  in  her  memory,  and  these  are  held  with 
tenacious  grasp  ;  but  of  the  lapse  of  time,  measured 
by  months  and  years,  she  has  no  conception.  Her 
mind  on  that  subject  is  a  blank.  "A  long  time 
ago  "  is  all  she  knows  about  it.  She  cannot  tell 
how  long  she  has  been  in  the  Church  ;  but  she 
knew  Dr.  Coke,  and  it  was  through  Mr.  Fish's 
preaching  she  was  brought  to  God  and  made 
happy  "  a  long  time  ago."  She  does  not  know 
how  many  years  it  is  since  she  was  brought  to  the 
country  as  a  slave  ;  "  it  was  long  time  ago,"  and  it 
was  "  four  days  after  de  urtquake  kill  all  de 
people  at  Port  Royal."  She  is  quite  sure  of  that. 
She  is  unable  to  tell  how  old  she  was  when  bad 
men  stole  her  from  her  country.  "  It  was  long 
time  ago  ;  me  pickaninny  so  " — endeavoring  to 
describe  the  height  of  a  child  some  three  feet  from 
the  ground.  These  form  the  great  landmarks  of 
her  life's  histor;-  And  while  thousands  of  inci- 
dents, which,  for  the  time,  were  fraught  with  in- 
terest, have  been  blotted  by  the  hand  of  time  from 
her  recollection,  these  remain,  fixed  and  ineradi- 
cable, until  the  light  of  eternal  day  shall  fully 
restore  all  the  forgotten  memories  of  the  past,  and 
stamp  them  sources  of  inexhaustible  joy  or  woe  to 
all  eternity. 

It  must  be  so  !     Strange  and  incredible  as  it  may 


1^2         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

seem,  there  is  no  just  reason  to  doubt  it.  There^ 
in  that  frail,  shrunken  specimen  of  humanity  is 
one  whose  memory  goes  back  to  a  period  more 
than  one  hundred  and  forty  years  distant,  one  who 
has  seen  the  changes  and  vicissitudes  of  at  least 
one  hundred  and  forty-eight  years  of  experience 
in  this  world  of  evil.  The  great  earthquake  she 
refers  to  occurred  in  1692.  It  is  now  A.  D.  1834 ; 
and,  allowing  that  she  was  six  years  of  age  when 
she  was  brought  a  slave  to  these  shores,  which  she 
must  have  been  to  be  able  to  remember  these 
events  so  distinctly,  she  has  now  arrived  at  the  ex- 
traordinary age  of  one  hundred  and  forty-eight. 
Here  is  one  who  has  passed  through  the  unparal- 
leled term  of  more  than  one  hundred  and  forty 
years  of  slave  life.  True,  she  has  always  been  in 
kind  hands,  and  has  always  been  a  domestic  serv- 
ant, well  fed  and  clothed ;  never,  like  many  others, 
having  her  flesh  lacerated  with  the  cruel  whip. 
But  she  has  been  in  bondage  while  nearly  five  gen- 
erations of  men  have  passed  across  the  stage  of 
life  ;  and  now  the  decree  has  gone  forth  that,  in  a 
few  months,  the  wrongful  system  which  makes 
human  beings  slaves  under  the  British  flag  is  to 
cease  forever. 

But  old  Moggy  will  not  live  to  see  it.  After 
one  hundred  and  forty  years  and  more  of  slavery 
she  is  to  go  down  to  the  grave — still  a  bond- 
woman. This  matters  little,  however.  There  is 
no  slavery,  no  oppression,  or  wrong,  in  that  better 
land  she  is  passing  to  :  for  there  is  no  more  curse. 
No    sighing  shall  be   there.     It  is  the  region  of 


In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years.   173 

unbroken  rest  and  peace,  where  the  loving  Hand, 
once  pierced  for  sin,  shall  wipe  away  the  tears  from 
every  eye,  and  all  the  signs  and  sources  of  sorrow 
shall  be  forever  dried  up.  There  is  one  of  whom 
it  may  well  be  said,  is  not  this  a  wonderful  instance 
of  God's  long-suffering  goodness  ?  For  when  more 
than  a  hundred  years  of  her  mortal  pilgrimage 
had  passed  away  words  of  Divine  mercy  fell  upon 
her  ear ;  light  from  heaven  shone  into  the  dark 
mind  where  scarce  a  ray  of  intelligence  had  ever 
beamed  before.  The  fountain  of  penitence  was 
opened  in  her  breast  ;  and,  going  with  a  troubled 
heart  to  that  precious  Saviour,  of  whom  now,  for 
the  first  time  in  ten  decades  of  life,  she  had  heard, 
she  cast  her  soul  upon  him  in  simple,  childlike 
trust,  and  the  guilt  accumulating  through  a  whole 
century  of  darkness  and  sin  was,  in  great  mercy, 
rolled  away.  Filled  with  peace  and  joy  in  believ- 
ing, a  heaven  of  love  rising  up  in  her  soul,  she 
felt  herself 

"A  slave  redeem'd  from  death  and  sin, 
A  brand  pluck'd  from  eternal  fire  ! " 

With  what  strange  emotions  the  missionary 
gazes  upon  the  shriveled,  wasted  form  of  old 
Moggy,  retaining  but  little  of  the  semblance  of 
humanity,  naught  of  the  grace  and  beauty  of  the 
gentler  sex  !  He  adores  the  riches  of  that  grace 
which  stooped  to  her  in  extreme  old  age,  and  in 
the  degradation  of  slave-life,  to  bring  her  to  the 
cross,  dispel  the  gloom  that  had  long  settled  upon 
her   spirit,   and,    waking   up    the    moral    faculties 


174         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

which  had  lain  dormant  for  a  century,  make  her  a 
happy  child  of  God  and  an  heir  of  eternal  life  ! 
Once  and  again  he  repairs  to  that  bedside  to  pour 
out  his  heart  in  prayer  with  this  wonderful  monu- 
ment of  saving  grace  and  mercy.  But  every  time 
he  appears  there  it  becomes  more  and  more  evident 
that  life  is  ebbing  out  at  last,  and  the  close  of  this 
lengthened  earthly  pilgrimage  is  close  at  hand. 
It  is  pleasing  to  observe  the  loving  care  with 
which  those  about  her — bound  to  her  by  no  ties 
of  kindred  and  blood,  but  only  sisters  in  the 
Church — minister  to  her  age  and  helplessness, 
and  surround  her  with  cleanliness  and  comfort; 
smoothing  the  pillow  of  the  dying  saint  with  ten- 
der Christian  sympathy  to  the  end.  The  end  soon 
comes.  More  and  more  the  vital  energies  flag, 
until  "  Jesus  "  is  the  only  word  that  is  heard  to  dwell 
upon  her  withered  lips.  Even  that,  at  length,  is 
heard  no  more.  She  is  motionless  and  just  slight- 
ly breathing  when  the  missionary  kneels  for  the 
last  time  beside  her,  commending  the  departing 
spirit  to  its  Savioijr,  Before  another  sun  gilds 
with  its  morning  splendors  the  blue  mountain  tops 
of  the  land  of  springs,  before  the  Sabbath  has 
come  round,  old  Moggy,  probably  the  oldest 
human  being  on  the  earth,  has  ceased  to  be  num- 
bered among  the  living — has 

"  Found  the  rest  we  toil  to  find, 
Landed  in  the  arms  of  God," 

Peaceful  and  gentle  was  the  end  of  the  poor 
aged  slave  woman.     Without  a  motion  or  a  sound 


In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years.  175 

she  slowly  ceased  to  breathe  and  live,  and  it  was 
only  when  the  withered  limbs  began  to  stiffen  in 
the  icy  grasp  of  death  that  those  about  her  were 
certified  that  the  spirit  had  passed  to  its  home. 
The  same  evening — for  in  the  tropics  delay  in  bury- 
ing the  dead  out  of  sight  is  inadmissible — the  remains 
were  deposited  in  the  old  burying-ground  to  the 
eastward  of  the  city.  There  a  goodly  multitude 
await  the  fulfillment  of  Jehovah's  decree  of  predes- 
tination concerning  his  saints,  when,  raised  from 
the  dust  of  death  to  a  glorious  immortality,  they 
shall  be  "conformed  to  his  image,"  "fashioned 
like  unto  his  glorious  body,"  "  be  like  him,"  the 
physical  with  the  moral  and  intellectual  nature 
having  been  redeemed  from  the  curse  of  sin  Avith 
a  price  "all  price  beyond,"  and,  rendered  trans- 
cendently  perfect,  beautiful,  and  dazzling,  "  shall 
shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their 
Father." 

This  remarkable  instance  of  protracted  slave 
life  does  not  stand  alone.  In  the  "  Kingston 
Chronicle,"  (Jamaica,)  June  14,  1819,  there  ap- 
peared the  following  notice  : 

"  Roger  Hope  Elletson  died  at  the  Hope 
estate  on  Monday,  the  31st  of  May,  aged  upward 
of  one  hundred  and  forty  years." 

The  subject  of  this  notice  was  generally  called 
Old  Hope.,  and  was  born  and  died  a  slave,  having, 
like  Old  Moggy.,  existed  in  three  centuries,  and 
seen  at  least  four  generations  of  men  pass  across 
the  stage  of  life.  As  in  the  other  case,  no  written 
document  or  record  proved  his  age ;  but  he  too 


176         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

had  a  remembrance  of  the  great  earthquake  that 
destroyed  Port  Royal  in  1692,  and  caused  the 
founding  of  the  city  of  Kingston.  He  was  then  a 
father,  not  less  than  eighteen  or  twenty  years  of 
age.  In  Long's  History  of  Jamaica,  published  in 
1774,  speaking  of  the  salubrious  climate,  and  the 
frequent  longevity  of  the  inhabitants,  the  historian 
says :  "  I  can  remember  three  white  inhabitants, 
each  of  whom  exceeded  one  hundred  years.  I 
know  others  now  living  beyond  ninety,  and  about 
five  years  ago  I  conversed  with  a  negro  man  who 
remembered  perfectly  well  the  great  earthquake 
which  destroyed  Port  Royal  in  1692,  and  by  his 
own  account  he  could  not  have  been  much  under 
eighteen  or  twenty  when  that  event  happened. 
These  persons  were  not,  as  in  northern  countries, 
decrepit  or  bedridden,  but  lively,  and  able  to  stir 
about,  their  appetites  good,  and  their  faculties 
moderately  sound." 

It  is  generally  understood  that  Old  Hope  was 
the  negro  man  the  historian  conversed  with,  who 
was  then  nearly  one  hundred  years  of  age,  and 
survived  that  period  forty-five  years.  His  extreme 
age  attracted  to  him  the  notice  of  Admiral  Doug- 
las, and  the  intelligence  he  manifested  made  him 
a  favorite  object  of  the  admiral's  liberality  and 
kindness  so  long  as. he  remained  on  the  station. 

Old  Hope  was  born  a  slave  at  Merryman's  Hill, 
an  old  sugar  plantation  in  the  parish  of  St.  An- 
drew, but  he  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  long  life 
on  the  Hope  estate,  to  which  he  had  been  sold 
when  young.     He  had  a  perfect  recollection  of  the 


In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years,  i  "JJ 

terrible  shocks  of  the  great  convulsion  of  nature 
that  destroyed  the  capital  of  the  island.  He 
could  also  remember  two  other  remarkable  events 
which  took  place  about  the  same  time,  although 
he  failed  to  recollect  the  order  of  their  occur- 
rence, except  that  the  one  was  before  and  the 
other  after  the  earthquake.  The  two  events  to 
which  his  memory  thus  went  back  in  the  distant 
past  were  a  great  storm,  and  an  abortive  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  French  to  effect  a  landing  on 
the  island.  The  great  storm  alluded  to  took  place 
in  1689,  three  years  before  the  earthquake,  and 
the  effort  of  the  French  to  take  the  colony  in 
slave  named  Toney,  who  died  a  few  years  before 
1694,  two  years  after  that  memorable  event.  He 
could  not  tell  how  long  it  was  since  he  had  done 
any  work,  but  it  was  a  great  many  years,  and  a 
on  the  same  estate,  eighty  years  of  age,  said,  "Old 
Hope  must  be  twice  as  old  as  myself,  as  he  was  an 
old  man — too  old  to  work — when  I  was  a  picka- 
ninny." Old  Hope  had  never  been  sick  that  he 
could  remember,  and  he  never  drank  rum  or  any 
ardent  spirit  in  the  course  of  his  life.  From  first 
to  last  he  had  always  had  good  masters,  from 
whom  he  received  much  kindness,  and  he  never 
remembered  having  been  treated  with  harshness 
or  severity. 

Admiral  Douglas  had  the  portrait  of  this  old 
slave  painted,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  it  to  En- 
gland, believing  Old  Hope  to  be,  as  he  probably 
then  was,  the  oldest  specimen  of  the  human  race 
alive  upon  the  earth.     This  was  in  i8i7,two  years 


178         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

before  his  death.  He  was  then  not  less  than  one 
hundred  and  forty-three  years  of  age,  yet  he 
walked  to  Kingston,  a  distance  from  the  Hope 
estate  of  between  six  and  seven  miles,  without  any 
over  fatigue,  whenever  the  artist  required  him  to 
sit. 

At  length  the  end  of  his  long  earthly  pilgrimage 
came.  An  attack  of  intermittent  fever  greatly 
undermined  his  strength,  so  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  he  could  walk  to  the  city  and  back 
after  he  recovered  from  it.  But  this  he  did  two 
or  three  times.  Through  all  these  years  he 
continued  ignorant  of  the  Gospel  and  the  great 
salvation,  and  it  was  not  until  the  shadows  of  the 
grave  were  drawing  around  him  that  he  felt  any 
concern  about  religion.  About  two  months  be- 
fore his  death  he  desired  to  be  "  7nade  a  Chris- 
tian y"  and,  in  compliance  with  his  earnest  wishes, 
was  taken  to  the  parish  church  to  be  baptized  on 
Easter  Sunday,  April  11,  this  being  the  only  idea 
those  about  him  had  of  making  him  a  Christian. 
That  the  Spirit  of  God  was,  however,  working 
upon  his  mind  and  heart  was  evident  from  the 
fact  that  as  he  drew  near  to  his  end  those  around 
him  heard  him  engaged  frequently  in  earnest 
prayer,  though  they  could  not  always  distinctly 
make  out  what  he  said.  Living  away  from  the 
city,  and  in  the  bondage  of  slave-life,  he  had  had 
but  few  opportunities  of  coming  to  the  light  of 
saving  truth.  But  that  some  scattered  rays  had 
reached  him  and  penetrated  his  mind  may  justly 
be   inferred   from    the   earnest  prayers  which    he 


In  Slavery  a  Hundred  and  Forty  Years.  1 79 

offered  up  during  the  few  weeks  preceding  his  re- 
moval to  another  world.  And  may  we  not  hope 
that  He  who  heard  the  prayers  of  Cornelius  before 
the  glorious  light  of  the  Gospel  came  in  contact 
with  his  mind,  and  who  requires  of  men  according 
to  that  which  they  have,  and  not  according  to  that 
they  have  not,  responded  in  saving  mercy  to  the 
sincere  but  ignorant  petitions  of  the  aged  unlet- 
tered slave  ?  Different,  very  different,  however, 
were  the  death-bed  prospects  of  old  Moggy,  who 
for  many  years  had  enjoyed  the  rich  consolations 
of  the  Gospel,  and  rejoiced  in  the  unclouded  hope 
of  eternal  life. 

Old  Hope  never  left  the  estate  after  he  returned 
from  being  baptized,  but  during  seven  weeks  his 
strength  gradually  declined,  till  at  length  the 
weary  wheels  of  life  stood  still  on  Whit  Monday, 
May  31,  and  the  spirit  that  for  nearly  a  century 
and  a  half  had  inhabited  the  shriveled  tabernacle 
of  clay  passed  to  its  destiny.  His  age  was  made 
out  to  be  one  hundred  and  forty-five.  Eighteen 
years  old  when  the  earthquake  occurred  in  1692, 
which  was  the  great  landmark  of  his  life,  he  sur- 
vived to  1819. 

12 


i8o         Romance  Without  Fiction 


IX. 

The  Rendezvous  of  the  Buccaneers. 

Leagtibd  with  rapacious  rovers  of  the  main, 

Hayti's  barbarian  hunters  harassM  Spain ; 

A  mammoth  race,  invincible  in  might. 

Rapine  and  massacre  theu"  gi-im  delight, 

Peril  their  element: — o'er  land  and  flood 

They  carried  fii-e  and  quench''d  the  flames  with  blood ; 

Defipairing  captives  hail'd  them  from  the  coasts  ; 

They  rush'd  to  conquest,  led  by  Charib  ghosts. — Montgomeey. 

fHE  preceding  sketch  describes  two  remark- 
able cases  of  longevity,  both  of  them  relating 
to  individuals  who  were  held  in  slavery- 
through  fourteen  decades  of  human  life,  the  age 
in  both  instances  being  determined  by  the  memo- 
ry of  a  great  and  overwhelming  catastrophe,  which 
few  who  witnessed  it  could  ever  forget  while  they 
were  capable  of  remembering  anything.  With  re- 
gard to  the  aged  disciple  of  Christ  who,  after  a 
pilgrimage  of  one  hundred  and  forty-eight  years' 
duration,  passed  away  from  the  world,  in  peace 
with  God,  and  in  joyful  hope  of  being  with  him 
forever,  the  calamitous  event  determining  her 
age  marked  a  new  era  in  her  checkered  life  by 
fixing  indelibly  the  period  of  her  arrival  as  a 
slave  upon  a  foreign  shore.  It  marked  a  new 
era  also  in  the  history  of  the  colony,  inasmuch 
as  it  caused  the  seat  of  government  to  be  trans- 
ferred to  a  new  locality,  and  gave  rise  to  the  city 


The  Rendezvous  of  tJie  Buccaneers.      i8i 

which  from  that  time  has  been  the  mercantile 
capital  of  the  island.  By  this  appalling  visitation 
the  capital  town  with  all  the  Government  build- 
ings, the  public  records  of  the  colon}%  and  most 
of  the  public  and  official  men,  was  suddenly  swept 
away  and  swallowed  up.  It  was  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  convulsions  of  nature  of  which  any 
record  has  been  made. 

The  present  town  of  Port  Royal — for  the  town 
was  not  so  entirely  destroyed  as  not  to  admit  of  be- 
ing rebuilt  on  a  smaller  scale-  -occupies  a  singu- 
lar position  on  the  south  side  of  Jamaica.  About 
six  or  seven  miles  eastward  of  the  city  of  Kings- 
ton a  narrow  tongue  of  land  stretches  out  from 
the  main  shore,  sloping  off  at  first  in  a  south-west- 
erly direction,  and  then  running  nearly  parallel 
with  the  southern  coast  for  nine  or  ten  miles. 
This  peniiisula,  known  as  "The  Palisades,"  in- 
closed a  fine  sheet  of  water  from  two  to  three 
miles  in  width,  and  forms  a  natural  breakwater  to 
one  of  the  finest  harbors  in  the  world,  large  enough 
to  afford  anchorage  for  all  the  navies  of  Europe 
and  America.  It  is  very  possible  that  the  space 
occupied  by  this  expanse  of  water  was  once  solid 
ground,  and  has  been  made  what  it  now  is  by  the 
sinking  of  the  land,  through  one  of  those  natural 
convulsions  which  occasionally  work  such  great 
changes  in  this  part  of  the  world. 

Some  six  or  eight  miles  westward  of  Kingston 
the  main  coast  makes  a  sudden  curve,  and  stretches 
boldly  out  in  a  southern  direction  for  some  miles, 
forming  at  the  southern  extremity  what  is  known 


1 82         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

as  Portland  Point,  and  there  exhibiting  a  bold 
rocky  coast  with  an  eastern  aspect,  upon  the 
heights  of  which  may  be  seen  "  The  Battery  of  the 
Twelve  Apostles."  Further  in,  low  down  upon  a 
marshy  shore,  is  the  strong  military  station  of 
Fort  Augusta,  whose  powerful  batteries  completely 
command  the  channel  by  which  alone  vessels  of 
large  tonnage  can  approach  Kingston.  Right  op- 
posite, to  the  east  of  the  Apostles'  Battery,  across 
a  channel  about  four  miles  wide,  is  the  town  of 
Port  Royal,  situated  at  the  extreme  point  of  the 
tongue  of  land  we  have  described,  and  almost  sur- 
rounded by  the  sea.  Around  this  point,  frowning 
with  powerful  batteries,  all  vessels  have  to  pass 
into  Kingston  harbor.  The  sharp  captain  that 
would  slip  off  to  sea  without  paying  harbor  dues 
finds  it  a  difficult  matter  to  accomplish.  "The 
pass,"  which  is  necessary  to  clear  his  way,  must 
be  lodged  with  the  proper  official  at  Port  Royal 
before  his  ship  can  be  permitted  to  thread  the  in- 
tricate navigation  which  guards  the  approach  to 
Port  Royal  Point,  where  it  would  be  no  difficult 
matter  to  sink  a  vessel  in  a  very  few  minutes  with 
the  massive  artillery  that  crowns  the  point  in  all 
directions. 

The  tongue  of  land  on  which  Port  Royal  stands 
is  a  bank  of  loose  sand,  resting  upon  the  solid 
rocks  far  down  beneath  the  surface  of  the  waters. 
It  is  for  some  miles  partly  covered  with  stunted 
mangrove  bushes.  Half  a  mile  to  the  eastward  of 
the  town  three  or  four  half-blighted,  sickiy-look- 
ing  cocoa-nut  trees  mark  the  spot  which   is  the 


The  Rendezvous  of  tJie  Buccaneers.     183 

burying-place  of  the  inhabitants.  The  coffins  are 
deposited  in  such  holes  as  can  be  scooped  out  in  the 
loose  sand ;  and  being  seldom  sunk  much  below 
the  surface,  because  of  the  shifting  character  of 
the  ground,  are  sometimes,  after  the  prevalence 
of  strong  winds  which  blow  away  the  sand,  left 
altogether  bare  and  exposed,  and  the  festering  re- 
mains of  mortality  they  have  inclosed  are  ren- 
dered accessible  to  prowling  birds  of  prey.  Multi- 
tudes of  sailors  and  officers  of  the  British  navy, 
and  not  a  few  officers  and  men  belonging  to  the 
military  service,  cut  down  suddenly  by  the  deadly 
fever  familiarly  known  as  "Yellow  Jack,"  have 
found  their  last  resting-place  here.  Both  in  the 
army  and  navy  the  Palisades  of  Jamaica  are  asso- 
ciated only  with  saddening  thoughts  of  disease 
and  death. 

Port  Royal  is  the  principal  British  naval  station 
in  the  West  Indies,  and  was  in  this  respect  much 
more  important  than  it  now  is,  before  the  head- 
quarters for  the  West  India  squadron  were  trans- 
ferred to  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia.  It  possesses  an 
extensive  dock-yard,  with  massive  stone  buildings, 
and  all  the  machinery  and  paraphernalia  necessary 
for  heaving  down  vessels  of  the  largest  class.  It 
has  also  a  very  commodious  and  handsome  naval 
hospital,  where  every  thing  is  maintained  in  the 
high  state  of  perfection  essential  to  such  an  insti- 
tution. It  possesses  large  ranges  of  batteries,  and 
also  extensive  barracks  for  a  considerable  military 
force.  The  population  of  the  town  now  consists 
largely  of  employes  in  connection  with   the  naval 


1.84         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  military  establishments,  with  a  few  tradesmen, 
dealers  in  provisions,  and  lodging-house  keepers, 
who  furnish  accommodation  to  persons  resorting 
thither  for  a  sanitary  change.  There  are  no  man- 
ufactures of  any  kind  ;  nor  is  there  any  cultivation 
of  the  soil  beyond  the  growth  of  a  few  stunted 
shrubs  and  plants,  for  the  whole  is  a  bed  of  sand. 
There  is  no  road  extending  beyond  the  narrow 
limits  of  the  town  ;  the  only  access  to  the  place 
being  by  boats  in  which  provisions  of  all  kinds  are 
brought,  chiefly  from  Kingston.  There  are  no 
springs ;  the  inhabitants  are  supplied  with  water 
brought  in  sailing  water-tanks  from  Rockfort,  a 
distance  of  eight  or  nine  miles.  An  Episcopal 
Church  and  a  Baptist  place  of  worship  furnish  op- 
portunity for  the  religious  instruction  of  the  peo- 
ple, together  with  a  Wesleyan  chapel  and  mission 
house,  occupied  by  a  resident  minister  as  one  of 
the  outstations  of  the  Kingston  Circuit,  and  this 
has  been  the  birthplace  of  many  souls. 

It  was  in  the  time  of  Cromwell  that  Penn  and 
Venables — both  treacherous  to  the  ruler  who 
trusted  them — after  failing  in  the  attack  upon  San 
Domingo,  seized  upon  Jamaica,  and  wrested  it 
from  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  that  the  expedi- 
tion they  commanded  might  not  return  under  the 
disgrace  of  having  accomplished  nothing.  Then 
it  was  that  Port  Royal,  because  of  its  situation  and 
capabilities  for  defense,  became  the  capital  of  the 
British  colony.  Here,  situated  like  ancient  Tyre, 
in  a  position  of  commanding  strength  and  import- 
ance, it  became,  like  her,  the  seat  of  wealth  and 


The  Rcjidezvoiis  of  the  Buccmieers.      185 

power,  and  the  mercantile  rendezvous  and  empo- 
rium for  the  New  World.  Buildings  suitable  for 
all  Government  purposes  were  erected  in  the  sea- 
girt town,  and  the  governor  and  all  the  Govern- 
ment officials  took  up  their  abode  here.  It  also 
became  the  head-quarters  both  of  the  army  and 
navy,  and  here  were  established  the  principal 
courts  of  law. 

But  that  which  raised  Port  Royal  to  great  im- 
portance, and  made  it  the  depository  of  enormous 
wealth,  was  that,  from  its  situation,  so  easy  of  ac- 
cess from  the  sea,  it  became  the  favored  resort  of 
the  buccaneers,  whose  piratical  plundering  ex- 
ploits formed  the  theme  of  many  a  romantic  tale, 
and  made  them  the  terror  and  the  wonder  of  the 
New  World.  This  formidable  association  of  free- 
booters was  called  at  first  "  Brethren  of  the  Coast ;" 
but  afterward  they  became  better  known  under 
the  designation  of  Buccaneers  or  Boucaniers. 
Occupying  extensive  hunting  grounds  in  Hispani- 
ola — otherwise  called  San  Domingo,  and  in  more 
recent  times  Hayti — they  hunted  the  immense 
herds  of  cattle  with  which  the  wide-spreading  sa- 
vannas of  that  magnificent  island  abounded,  and 
also  the  wild  hogs  which  existed  there  in  great 
numbers.  For  the  skins  of  the  slaughtered  ani- 
mals they  obtained  a  ready  market ;  and  the  flesh 
both  of  beeves  and  swine  they  preserved  by  dry- 
ing and  smoking  them  in  sheds,  called  by  the  In- 
dians boucans.  The  flesh  thus  prepared  was  said 
to  be  boucanee,  and  hence  the  title  which  became 
so  famous  and  so  terrible  to  the  Spaniards. 


1 86  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

The  buccaneers  were  of  different  nations,  but 
consisted  largely  of  English  ;  men  of  desperate 
character  and  courage,  who  were  rendered  more 
reckless  and  ferocious  by  arrogant  claims  and 
proceedings  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniards.  Rest- 
ing its  pretensions  upon  the  presumptuous  Bull  of 
Pope  Alexander  the  Sixth,  who  assumed  the  right, 
as  God's  vicegerent  upon  earth,  to  dispose  at  his 
pleasure  of  all  the  islands  and  countries  that  might 
be  discovered  in  the  New  World,  Spain  made  an 
exclusive  claim  to  those  beautiful  Western  Isles 
as  their  mistress  and  owner.  In  asserting  this 
claim  the  Spaniards  sought  to  expel  and  get  rid 
of  the  buccaneers  by  the  same  atrocious  system  of 
extermination  which  had  been  practiced  toward 
the  aboriginal  Indians — murdering  and  destroying 
them  wherever  they  met  with  them.  This  at- 
tempt recoiled  with  terrible  effect  upon  them- 
selves. Treated  as  outlaws  and  pirates,  the  buc- 
caneers took  up  arms  in  self-defense,  and  formed 
among  themselves  a  formidable  and  singular  com- 
bination, possessing  all  things  in  common,  and 
maintaining  an  inviolable  fidelity  toward  each 
other,  not  always  to  be  found  in  a  more  civilized 
condition  of  life.  They  became  a  terrible  scourge 
to  the  Spaniards,  spreading  themselves  over  all 
the  western  seas,  and  capturing  every  Spanish  ves- 
sel they  could  fall  in  with.  They  invaded  and 
plundered  the  Spanish  settlements  in  the  islands 
and  on  the  continent  until  their  very  name  be- 
came a  terror,  and  no  Spaniard  felt  that  he  was 
safe  in  any  part  of  the  New  World  from  the  spirit 


TJie  Rendezvous  of  the  Buccaneers.      187 

of  desperate  enterprise  which  possessed  these  for- 
midable adventurers. 

The  buccaneers  had  their  settlements  in  various 
parts  of  the  West  Indies,  and  the  traveler  who  en- 
ters the  land-locked  harbor  of  St.  Thomas  looks 
up  from  the  deck  of  the  vessel  to  a  ruined  tower, 
crowning  the  summit  of  one  of  the  three  pyram- 
idal hills  on  which  the  town  is  built,  which  is 
still  known  as  the  Buccaneers'  Tower.  But  Port 
Royal  became  the  grand  rendezvous  of  these  free- 
booters of  the  Caribbean  Sea.  After  waging  a 
sort  of  piratical  war  for  some  years  with  the  Span- 
iards on  their  own  independent  footing,  in  the 
reign  of  the  second  Charles  the  buccaneers  were 
formally  licensed  as  privateers.  Under  Morgan, 
their  distinguished  chieftain,  who  was  afterward 
made  an  admiral  and  a  member  of  the  Privy 
Council  of  Jamaica,  they  performed  prodigies  of 
valor.  As  Sir  Henry  Morgan,  Knight,  this  reck- 
less leader  of  the  buccaneer  forces  was  appointed 
to  succeed  Lord  Carlisle  as  governor  of  the  island, 
and  the  colony  was  enriched  by  his  followers  to 
an  enormous  extent,  especially  by  the  sacking  of 
Panama  and  Portobello,  two  of  the  wealthiest  of 
the  Spanish  settlements  in  the  New  World. 

The  wealth  poured  into  Port  Royal  by  the  buc- 
caneers was  incalculable.  They  intercepted  all 
vessels  that  traversed  those  seas,  and  every  Span- 
ish ship  was  a  rich  prize.  If  going  to  the  ports  of 
the  Indies,  they  were  found  to  be  stored  with  the 
choicest  productions  and  manufactures  of  the 
home    country  —  the   glass   of  St.   Ildefonso,  the 


1 88         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

silks  and  serges  of  Valencia,  the  porcelain  of  Al- 
cora,  the  platillas  and  cordage  of  Carthagena,  the 
peculiar  soap  of  Castile,  the  cutlery  of  Toledo, 
the  fine  wool  of  Spain's  merino  sheep,  with  the 
wine  and  oil  and  almonds  and  raisins  produced  by 
Spain  in  common  with  Italy  and  the  Greek  islands. 
If  they  were  returning  home  to  Europe,  the  Span- 
ish galleons  were  loaded  with  ingots  of  gold  and 
silver.  The  disposal  of  these  buccaneers'  prizes, 
which  were  very  numerous,  made  a  golden  har- 
vest for  the  wholesale  merchant,  while  the  riot 
and  revelry  of  the  sailors,  spending  with  reckless 
prodigality  their  share  of  the  plunder,  enriched 
the  retailers,  and  the  traffic  of  this  renowned  mart 
laid  the  foundation  of  dowries  for  duchesses  and 
endowments  for  earldoms.  "  If  ever  there  was  a 
hope  anywhere,"  says  one  of  Jamaica's  most  in- 
tellectual sons,  Richard  Hill,  Esq.,  "  of  realizing 
the  traveler's  El  Dorado,  '  where  the  gold  grew, 
and  was  to  be  had  for  the  gathering ;  where  urchins 
played  at  cherry-pit  with  diamonds,  and  country 
wenches  threaded  rubies  for  necklaces  instead  of 
rowan-tree  berries;  where  the  pantiles  were  of  pure 
gold,  and  the  paving  stones  of  virgin  silver,'  it  was 
the  Port  Royal  of  the  buccaneers." 

But  as  it  rose  in  opulence  Port  Royal  sunk  into 
vice  and  wickedness.  Rendered  profligate  by  su- 
perabundance, and  reckless  by  habitual  violence, 
the  buccaneers  gathered  around  them  all  the  worst 
elements  of  corruption  and  depravity.  The  inhab- 
itants, vitiated  by  boundless  wealth  and  luxury, 
fell   into  a  state  of  moral  debasement  not  to  be 


The  Rendezvous  of  the  Bticcaneers.       1 89 

described,  until  vice  and  immorality  of  all  kinds 
became  rampant,  as  in  the  case  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah,  defying,  while  it  provoked,  the  venge- 
ance of  a  just  and  holy  God.  At  this  time 
there  was  not  perhaps  so  wealthy  or  so  wicked  a 
spot  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  Ungodliness  in 
all  its  forms,  crime  in  all  its  developments,  abound- 
ed, when,  as  in  the  case  of  Sodom,  the  uplifted 
arm  of  vengeance  fell  upon  it,  blotting  it,  with  its 
excess  of  wealth  and  wickedness,  from  the  map 
of  existence,  and  proclaiming  to  all  generations, 
"  Verily,  there  is  a  God  that  judgeth  in  the 
earth  !  " 

It  is  the  morning  of  a  lovely  day  in  June.  The 
blue  tropical  sky  is  clear  and  cloudless,  a  scene 
of  perfect  beauty,  reflected  in  the  gently  rolling 
waters  of  the  Caribbean  Sea.  The  glittering  white 
sail,  barely  visible  in  the  distance,  marks  here  and 
there  a  ship  bound  to  some  western  port  to  dis- 
charge the  rich  cargo  with  which  she  has  crossed 
the  Atlantic  basin,  or  running  before  the  trade- 
winds  to  pass  through  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  where, 
although  the  wondrous  attributes  of  the  Gulf  Stream 
are  as  yet  not  dreamed  of,  it  is  well  known  there  are 
strong  currents  that  help  the  mariner  on  his  home- 
ward way.  But  the  air  is  hot  and  sultry.  Al- 
though the  sun  has  nearly  reached  the  meridian, 
no  refreshing  sea-breeze  has  through  the  forenoon 
rippled  the  slowly  heaving  surface  of  the  ocean, 
whose  waters,  smooth  and  unbroken  as  a  sheltered 
lake,  seem  to  glisten  fiercely  as,  like  a  silvered 
mirror,   they   throw  back   the  fervid   rays  of  the 


IQO         RoMvVNCE  Without  Fiction. 

glowing  orb  which  pours  a  burning  heat  upon 
every  thing  around.  The  leaves  of  the  cocoa-nut 
palm,  that  wave  to  and  fro  with  a  gracefulness  all 
their  own  when  the  cool,  gentle  breezes  from  the 
sea  set  them  in  motion,  now  droop  in  perfect  still- 
ness, as  if,  under  some  powerful  enchantment, 
they  had  been  suddenly  divested  of  all  elasticity 
and  life.  The  dogs,  as  they  lazily  creep  into  the 
very  narrow  strips  of  shadow  cast  from  the  houses 
beneath  a  nearly  vertical  sun,  let  their  tongues 
hang  from  their  mouths,  as  if  they  had  not  suffi- 
cient strength  remaining  to  draw  them  in  again. 
Goats,  ordinarily  so  indifferent  to  the  heat,  repair 
to  the  grateful  shade  of  any  cocoa-nut  tree  or 
shrub  that  holds  out  the  promise  of  protection 
from  the  scorching,  glaring  sunshine.  Ladies  in 
their  dwellings,  so  planned  as  to  admit  of  the 
most  perfect  ventilation,  and  with  every  door  and 
window  thrown  wide  open,  sink  down  into  the 
coolest  spot,  enervated  and  overcome  by  the  heat. 
The  sterner  sex,  stretched  out  at  full  length  in  the 
grass  hammocks  of  Indian  manufacture,  or  loung- 
ing in  easy-chairs  beneath  the  shade  of  the  piazza, 
gasp  for  air,  or  else  seek  relief  and  coolness  in  the 
large  rummer  of  Sangaree,  or  the  glass  of  punch 
skillfully  compounded,  as  taste  may  suggest,  from 
the  well-replenished  spirit  decanter  on  the  one 
hand,  and  on  the  other  from  the  large  jug  of  well- 
spiced  and  sugared  limejuice  bevei-age  which  is 
always  placed  upon  the  sideboard  shortly  before 
midday.  But  they  seek  for  it  in  vain.  Notwith- 
standing these  potent  remedies  they  pant  for  air. 


The  Rendezvous  of  the  Buccaneers.       1 9 1 

and  feel  the  atmosphere  to  be  intolerably  oppress- 
ive. Even  Quashie  and  Quamina,  Jupiter  and 
Venus,  upon  whom,  as  the  slaves  of  the  several 
establishments,  devolve  the  activity  of  their  re- 
spective households,  and  who  seem  to  be  gifted 
largely  with  the  fabled  properties  of  the  salaman- 
der, feel  the  heat  to  be  somewhat  inconvenient, 
and  exclaim,  as  they  meet  one  another  in  the 
houses,  stores,  or  streets,  "  Him  bery  hot,  for 
true."  All  nature  seems  to  languish  in  utter  stag- 
nation. 

Worried  out  of  life  by  the  perverse,  impractica- 
ble men  he  has  had  to  deal  with,  and  the  difficul- 
ties of  his  position,  the  governor,  the  Earl  of 
Inchiquin,  has  recently  been  consigned  to  the 
quiet  of  the  grave,  and  the  administration  of  the 
Government  has  consequently  devolved  upon  the 
president  of  the  council.  Sir  Francis  Watson. 
This  gentleman  is  seated  under  the  shade  of  a 
wide-spreading  piazza,  in  company  with  the  rectoi 
of  the  town,  and  they  agree  together  that  it  will 
be  a  very  good  thing  to  seek  relief  from  the  over- 
powering heat  that  oppresses  them  in  the  discus- 
sion of  a  glass  of  wormwood  wine,  as  a  whet  to  the 
appetite  before  dinner,  and  a  pipe  of  tobacco. 
Little  does  the  unfortunate  president  dream  that 
the  glass  of  wormwood  wine  he  invites  the  rector 
to  share  with  him  will  be  the  last  taste  of  refresh- 
ment that  is  ever  to  pass  his  lips  ;  that  the  pipe, 
from  which  he  is  pufifing  away  clouds  of  smoke 
with  so  much  enjoyment,  is  the  last  that  shall  ever 
be  lighted  by  him.     Yet  so  it  is. 


192         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

It  is  well  we  are  not  permitted  to  see  far  into 
our  own  future,  or  how  much  of  life's  enjoyment 
would  be  marred  !  While  the  cloud  rising  up  from 
the  pipes  of  the  two  loungers  is  slowly  curling 
around  their  heads,  for  there  is  no  breath  of  wind 
to  scatter  and  bear  it  away,  and  the  dial  indicates 
that  in  twenty  minutes  the  sun  will  be  in  his  merid- 
ian glory,  the  smokers  become  sensible  of  a  gen- 
tle, tremulous  motion  beneath  their  feet.  Their 
smoking  is  arrested,  and  the  pipes  are  involuntarily 
drawn  from  their  mouths.  Immediately  a  more 
violent  shock  takes  place,  accompanied  with  the 
hollow,  rolling  noise  so  familiar  to  those  who  in- 
habit those  western  isles,  and  resembling  the 
sound  of  a  heavy  wagon  passing  over  a  roughly 
paved  road.  The  pipes  drop  from  their  hands  as 
they  rise  alarmed  from  their  seats.  "  Sir,"  says  the 
rector,  "  what  is  that  ?  "  More  self-possessed  than 
his  companion,  the  president  replies,  "It  is  an 
earthquake  :  don't  be  afraid  ;  it  will  soon  be  over." 
But  it  is  not  destined  to  be  so.  Those  are  the 
last  words  to  fall  from  his  lips.  He  is  never  seen 
again  ;  never  heard  of  more  in  connection  with  the 
earth.  The  rector,  as  soon  as  these  words  are 
spoken,  and  he  realizes  the  idea  of  the  calamity 
that  is  coming  upon  them,  rushes  at  once  out  of  the 
piazza,  and  makes  his  way  toward  an  open  space 
near  Morgan's  Fort,  to  escape  from  the  danger 
of  the  falling  houses,  which  he  now  sees  crumbling 
into  heaps  of  ruin  in  all  directions ;  for  a  third 
shock  has  succeeded,  far  more  violent  than  the 
preceding   ones,    shaking    down    buildings    of  all 


The  Rendezvous  of  the  Buccaneers.     193 

sizes,  and  burying  multitudes,  crushed  out  of  all 
semblance  to  humanity,  under  the  crumbling  mass- 
es of  stones  and  bricks  and  timber  and  rubbish 
which  have  fallen  upon  them. 

Earthquakes  are  among  the  most  appalling  of 
those  destructive  visitations  to  which  men  are 
liable ;  they  come  so  suddenly,  and  are  ofttimes 
so  terribly  fraught  with  wide-spread  ruin  and  death, 
from  which  there  is  no  possibility  of  escape.  No 
sign,  no  sound,  heralds  the  approach  of  the  dread 
enemy.  The  earth  is  reeling  ;  houses  and  build- 
ings all  around  are  tottering  and  tumbling,  and 
hundreds  of  souls  are  halfway  to  eternity  before 
they  realize  the  idea  that  the  loud  rumbling  which 
fills  the  air,  and  which  they  have  mistaken  for 
that  of  a  passing  vehicle,  is  the  fatal  bellowing  of 
the  earthquake.  More  than  once  has  the  writer 
had  his  pen  arrested  at  his  desk,  or  been  suddenly 
wakened  up  in  the  darkness  and  silence  of  the  night, 
by  the  ominous  sound,  to  perceive  the  ground  trem- 
bling or  waving  to  and  fro,  the  windows  and  the 
furniture  rattling,  and  the  house  shaking  or  un- 
dulating as  if  some  giant  grasp  were  laid  upon  it ; 
and  to  feel  the  irresistible  conviction  rushing 
upon  his  mind  that  danger,  great  and  terrible, 
is  impending  close  at  hand,  which,  before  a 
place  of  safety  can  be  reached,  may  close  in, 
bringing  upon  all  around  inevitable  ruin  and 
death. 

So  it  is  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  devoted 
town.  In  a  moment  the  destruction,  unthought-of, 
unavoidable,  comes  !     First,  a  slight  trembling  of 


194         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  earth  for  a  few  seconds,  which  becomes  more 
and  more  violent,  until  every  thing  is  shuddering 
and  reeling.  A  loud,  mysterious  roar,  seeming  to 
proceed  from  the  distant  mountains,  is  heard,  roll- 
ing onward,  paralyzing  the  energies  of  all.  And, 
before  many  have  realized  the  idea  that  it  is  the 
earthquake,  the  greatest  part  of  the  town  has 
crumbled  and  fallen.  The  receptacle  of  so  much 
wealth,  the  scene  of  such  abounding  wickedness, 
sinks  into  the  sea,  and  thousands  of  the  inhabit- 
ants instantly  disappear,  literally  swallowed  up. 
The  wharves,  piled  high  with  spoil  and  merchan- 
dise, are  engulfed  instantaneously ;  and  water 
stands  some  fathoms  deep  where,  a  few  moments 
ago,  the  crowded  streets  displayed  the  glittering 
treasures  of  Mexico  and  Peru. 

The  rector,  leaving  his  boon  companion,  the 
president,  to  his  fate,  gains  the  open  space  near 
at  hand,  and  is  saved.  But  what  appalling  scenes 
present  themselves  to  his  view  !  The  ground  is 
rolling  and  trembling  under  his  feet,  but  it  does 
not  sink  from  beneath  him.  Close  at  hand,  how- 
ever, he  sees  the  earth  open,  and  swallow  up  a 
multitude  of  people  of  all  classes,  who,  terror- 
stricken,  are  rushing  hither  and  thither,  not  know- 
ing where  to  fly  for  safety.  Houses,  stores,  and 
wharves,  the  Government  buildings  and  barracks, 
all  sink  before  his  eyes,  far  down  into  the  deep  ; 
and  the  sea,  mounting  in  upon  them  in  a  vast  tidal 
wave,  comes  rushing  with  stupendous  sweep  over 
the  fortifications.  The  church  and  the  large  burial- 
ground  disappear  in  a  moment  beneath  the  waters, 


The  Reudcsvons  of  the  Buccaneers.      195 

while  cofifins  and  carcasses,  in  all  stages  of  decay, 
which  have  been  deposited  in  the  loose  sand,  float 
to  the  surface,  adding  to  the  ghastliness  and  terror 
of  the  scene. 

Shock  follows  shock  in  rapid  succession.  The 
air  is  filled  with  screams  of  anguish  and  cries  of 
horror,  mingled  with,  and  partly  drowned  by,  the 
rush  of  waters,  and  the  crash  of  thousands  of  fall- 
ing edifices.  Large  fissures  open  in  the  earth,  and 
then,  by  other  shocks,  are  closed  again,  burying 
some  persons  alive  altogether,  leaving  others, 
maimed  and  crushed  and  partially  buried,  with 
their  heads  and  limbs  appearing  above  ground  for 
dogs  and  birds  of  prey  to  feed  upon.  In  the 
openings  of  the  earth  the  houses  and  the  inhabit- 
ants sink  down  together ;  and  some  of  the  latter 
are  driven  up  again  by  the  rushing  in  of  the  sea, 
and  marvelously  escape  with  life.  This  is  the 
case  with  a  French  gentleman,  named  Lewis 
Galdy,  who  is  swallowed  up — engulfed  with  house 
and  property — by  one  shock  of  the  earthquake, 
and,  by  another  shock  that  quickly  follows,  is 
thrown  up,  alive  and  uninjured,  into  the  sea. 
Being  rescued  by  a  boat,  he  lives  for  many  years 
to  adore  the  gracious  Providence  that  so  wonder- 
fully delivered  him  from  a  sudden  and  painful 
death.*     The  sea,  as  well  as   the  land,  feels   the 

*  This  gentleman,  after  the  catastrophe,  became  a  member 
of  the  local  legislature,  and  lived  for  forty-four  years  after  his 
wonderful  deliverance.  Dying  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty, 
he  was  buried  at  Green  Bay,  opposite  to  Port  Royal,  at  a 
short  distance  from  the  Apostles'  Battery.  In  1S44  the  writer 
13 


196         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

throes  of  this  great  convulsion  of  nature  ;  and  the 
water,  which,  in  the  absence  of  every  breath  of  wind, 
has  been  all  the  morning  smooth  as  glass,  becomes 
suddenly  and  violently  agitated,  as  if  moved  by  a 
mighty  storm.  Thrown  up  into  vast  billows,  which 
rise  and  fall  with  unaccountable  violence,  it  drives 
many  ships,  with  broken  cables,  from  their  anchor- 
age. The  "  Swan "  frigate,  with  all  her  heavy 
guns,  borne  over  the  tops  of  the  sunken  houses,  is 
left  high  and  dry  upon  the  land,  in  the  midst  of  the 
ruins,  affording  a  providential  refuge  to  many  un- 
fortunate persons  who,  saved  themselves  where 
such  a  multitude  have  perished,  have  been  stripped 


visited  the  spot,  and  found  the  tomb,  built  of  brick  and  covered 
with  a  slab  of  white  marble,  on  which  was  sculptured  a  shield 
bearing  a  cock,  two  stars,  and  a  crescent,  with  the  motto, 
"  Dieu  sur  tout!'  Underneath  was  the  following  inscription, 
distinctly  legible  :  "  Here  lies  the  body  of  Lewis  Galdy,  Es- 
quire, who  departed  this  life  at  Port  Royal  the  22d  December, 
1736,  aged  eighty  years.  He  was  born  at  Montpellier,  in 
France,  but  left  that  country  for  his  religion  and  came  to 
settle  in  this  island,  where  he  was  swallowed  up  in  the  great 
earthquake  in  the  year  1692,  and.  by  the  providence  of  God, 
was,  by  anothef  shock,  thrown  into  the  sea,  and  miraculous- 
ly saved  by  swimming  until  a  boat  took  him  up.  He  lived 
many  years  after  in  great  reputation,  beloved  by  all  who  knew 
him,  and  much  lamented  at  his  death."  Fragments  of  the 
marble  had  been  chipped  from  the  slab  by  visitors.  And 
when  the  writer  paid  a  second  visit  to  the  burial-place  with 
his  two  daughters  in  April,  1867,  he  was  greatly  surprised  to 
ficii  that  the  tomb  had  been  entirely  demolished,  and  only 
just  enough  of  the  brick  foundation  remained  to  mark  the 
spot,  and  show  the  size  and  shape  of  the  structure  that  had 
covered  Mr.  Galdy's  remains. 


TJie  Rendezvous  of  the  Buccaneers.      igy 

in  a  moment  of  all  they  possessed,  and  left  without 
even  a  shelter. 

So  wide-spread  is  the  desolation  that  only  about 
two  hundred  houses,  with  one  fort,  are  left,  in  a 
shattered  and  dismantled  condition,  where  in  the 
morning  of  that  day  stood  in  its  pride  the  wealthy, 
gay,  and  busy  city.  Together  with  its  enormous 
piles  of  precious  merchandise,  ingots  of  gold,  bar- 
rels of  pistoles  and  doubloons,  and  tierces  of  sil- 
ver— common  almost  as  the  sand  in  the  streets — 
the  city  that  trafficked  in  violence  has  sunk  and 
disappeared  in  the  depths  of  the  sea,  leaving  the 
impoverished  survivors  to  take  up  the  lamentation 
for  her  that  was  uttered  over  ancient  Tyre  :  "  How 
art  thou  destroyed,  that  wast  inhabited  of  seafaring 
men,  the  renowned  city,  which  wast  strong  in  the 
sea,  she  and  her  inhabitants,  which  cause  their 
terror  to  be  on  all  that  haunt  it!  "  Ezek.  xxvi,  17. 
The  ruins  are  still  visible  from  the  surface  of  the 
waters  under  which  they  lie,  and  buoys,  placed 
above,  still  mark  the  spot,  and  admonish  mariners 
that  they  may  not  drop  their  anchors  there,  lest 
they  become  inextricably  entangled  amid  the 
stones  and  brickwork  and  massive  timbers  en- 
gulfed and  swallowed  up  by  the  greedy  sea. 

Terrible  has  been  the  destruction  of  human  life. 
Fifteen  hundred  persons  of  note,  including  the 
president  administering  the  Government,  members 
of  both  branches  of  the  Legislature,  officers  of  the 
Government,  judges,  merchants  —  nearly  all  the 
principal  men  of  the  island — b}'^  one  fell  swoop 
have  disappeared,  with  thousands  upon  thousands 


198         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

of  sailors,  soldiers,  artisans,  and  slaves.  All  in 
the  morning  of  that  bright  sunny  day  were  full  of 
lusty  life,  little  thinking  of  death  or  danger.  The 
setting  sun  shines  upon  the  waves,  where,  far 
down  below,  they  lie  slumbering  in  a  watery 
grave.  Not  a  public  building  remains,  and  all 
the  public  records  and  official  papers  of  the  col- 
ony have  perished  with  those  who  had  the  care 
of  them. 

Nor  is  the  devastation  confined  to  the  principal 
city  of  the  island.  There,  owing  to  the  peculiar 
position  and  formation  of  the  place,  the  ruin  and 
destruction  have  been  greatest ;  but  all  over  the 
island  the  earthquake  has  left  the  sad  traces  of  its 
terrible  power.  The  rocks  on  the  opposite  shore, 
near  to  Port  Henderson  and  the  Apostles'  Bat- 
tery, have  been  rent  into  enormous  caverns  and 
fissures,  from  whence  sulphurous  steam  is  seen  to 
gush  for  several  days.  The  town  of  St.  Jago  de  la 
Vega,  founded,  like  Port  Royal,  by  the  Spaniards, 
is  well-nigh  destroyed.  The  well-compacted 
houses,  built  by  Spanish  skill,  with  a  view  to 
earthquake  visitations,  "are  split  and  rent  in  all 
directions ;  while  those  of  more  recent  and  less 
careful  structure  have  crumbled  into  heaps,  bury- 
ing, in  many  instances,  the  unfortunate  inhabitants 
beneath  them.  So  it  is  all  over  the  island.  The 
buildings  on  the  plantations  are  shaken  down,  and 
hundreds,  crushed  under  the  ruins  of  their  habita- 
tions, have  found  their  graves  in  their  own  dwell- 
ings. The  whole  face  of  the  country  is  changed, 
stupendous  mountains  being  upheaved  from  their 


The  Rendezvous  of  the  Buccaneers.       199 

foundations,  and  tossed  about  in  wild  confusion. 
There  is  scarely  a  mountain  in  the  island  that  has 
not  been  altered  in  its  outline,  while  the  rivers, 
too,  have  changed  their  courses.  On  the  princi- 
pal road  through  the  island  two  mountains  have 
been  lifted  up  and  thrown  together,  stopping  up 
the  bed  of  the  river  with  huge  masses  of  disjoint- 
ed rock,  until  the  waters,  collected  in  great  force, 
and  raised  to  an  overwhelming  height,  burst  their 
adamantine  barrier,  and,  bearing  all  before  them, 
force  open  a  new  passage  for  themselves,  increas- 
ing, in  their  destructive  sweep,  the  horrors  which 
already  abound. 

These  are  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows  to  the 
guilty  land.  One  of  the  historians  of  the  West 
Indies  says,  "  The  tremendous  convulsions  were 
repeated  with  little  intermission,  though  with  de- 
creasing violence,  for  the  space  of  three  weeks, 
and  every  fissure  in  the  rocks,  every  cleft  in  the 
cracked  and  parching  earth,  was  steaming  with 
sulphurous  fumes.  The  air  reeked  with  noxious 
miasmata,  and  the  sea  exhaled  an  offensive,  putrid 
vapor,  which  destroyed  a  great  proportion  of  those 
destitute  and  wretched  beings  whom  the  convul- 
sion itself  had  spared.  No  fewer  than  three  thou- 
sand were  the  victims  of  this  dreadful  endemic, 
and  the  few  surviving  inhabitants  of  Port  Royal, 
who  sought  a  refuge  in  temporary  huts  where 
Kingston  now  stands,  were  yet  within  reach  of 
the  contagious  cause,  for  the  dead  bodies  still 
floated  in  shoals  about  the  harbor,  and  added 
horror  to  a  scene  which  the  pencil  could  not  de- 


200         Romance  Without  P'iction. 

lineate,  much  less  the  pen  describe.  The  insup- 
portable heat  of  a  tropical  midsummer  was  not  for 
many  weeks  refreshed  even  by  a  partial  breath  of 
air ;  the  sky  blazed  with  irresistible  fierceness, 
swarms  of  mosquitoes  clouded  the  atmosphere, 
while  the  lively  beauty  of  the  mountain  forests 
suddenly  vanished,  and  the  fresh  verdure  of  the 
lowland  scenery  was  changed  to  the  russet  gray  of 
a  northern  winter.  The  cane  fields  were  disfig- 
ured by  masses  of  fallen  rock,  and  presented  to 
the  eye  a  barren  wilderness,  parched  and  fur- 
rowed. Thus  vanished  the  glory  of  the  most 
flourishing  emporium  of  the  New  World  by  a  suc- 
cession of  tremendous  judgments,  resembling  those 
visitations  of  an  offended  Deity  on  some  cities  in 
the  Old  World,  where  an  iniquitous  race  was  over- 
whelmed in  sudden  and  unexpected  ruin.  Large 
sums  of  money,  arising  from  the  treasures  of  un- 
known or  lost  proprietors,  fell  into,  the  hands  of 
many  individuals,  and  among  others  into  those  of 
Sir  William  Preston,  who  was  charged  by  the  As- 
sembly, ten  years  afterward,  with  having  appro- 
priated a  considerable  share  to  his  own  use.  One 
loss  was  irrecoverable,  and  is  still  severely  felt : 
that  of  all  the  official  papers  and  public  records  of 
the  island,  whose  history  is  thereby  rendered  so 
obscure  and  incomplete." 


The  Groundless  Panic.  201 


X. 

The  Groundless  Panic. 

Fear  on  guilt  attends,  and  deeds  of  darkness  : 
The  virtuous  breast  ne'er  knows  it. — Howard. 

Desponding  fear,  of  feeble  fancies  full. 

Weak  and  unmanly,  loosens  every  power. — Thomson 

tTALFWAY  between  Hayti  and  Jamaica  the 
X  voyager  on  the  Caribbean  Sea  first  catches 
a  glimpse  of  the  blue  mountains  of  "  the 
land  of  springs,"  (for  so  Jamaica  was  called  by 
its  aboriginal  inhabitants,)  the  towering  hills  of 
both  islands  being  visible  at  the  same  time  from 
the  deck  of  the  ship  when  the  weather  is  clear. 
But  the  first  land  which  he  approaches  is  Morant 
Point,  forming  the  south-eastern  extremity  of  Ja- 
maica, and  stretching  out  a  considerable  distance 
into  the  sea,  so  low  and  flat  as  not  to  be  seen  from 
a  vessel's  deck  until  she  is  close  upon  it.  Morant 
Point  has  been  exceedingly  fatal  to  ships,  many  a 
gallant  bark  having  struck  upon  this  treacherous 
tongue  of  land  before  the  slow  progress  of  civil- 
ization, and  the  still  slower  growth  of  public  spirit 
in  the  British  colonies  of  the  West  Indies,. led  to 
the  erection  of  a  light-house,  whose  beacon  flame, 
gleaming  over  the  dark  waters,  now  admonishes 
the  mariner  of  the  danger  upon  which  he  might 


202         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

have  rushed.  This  eastern  extremity  of  the  island 
is  comprised  in  the  parish  of  St.  Thomas,  Jamaica 
being  divided  into  parishes,  several  of  which  are 
almost  equal  in  geographical  extent  to  some  En- 
glish counties.  This  part  of  the  island  offers  to 
the  admiring  traveler  many  scenes  of  surpassing 
beauty.  Looking  southward  from  the  low  range 
of  hills  at  the  eastern  commencement  of  that  vast 
chain  of  mountains  running  right  through  the  cen- 
ter of  the  island  from  east  to  west,  intersected 
by  thousands  of  magnificent  ravines  and  fruitful 
valleys,  the  eye  is  greeted  by  a  landscape  of 
Kden-like  grandeur  and  loveliness.  Inclosed  be- 
tween two  ranges  of  rising  lands,  in  a  fork  of  the 
mountains  open  to  the  sea  at  one  end,  and  termi- 
nating almost  in  a  point  at  the  other,  lies  what  is 
called  the  Plantain-Garden-River  District,  nine 
or  ten  miles  in  length  and  several  in  width.  It  is 
the  most  fertile  spot  in  one  of  the  most  fertile 
countries  in  the  world,  and  is  divided  into  a  num- 
ber of  sugar  plantations,  not  surpassed  in  value  by 
any  in  the  colony,  each  of  considerable  extent, 
and  possessing  a  soil  of  inexhaustible  richness, 
which,  with  little  or  no  aid  of  agricultural  chem- 
istry, produces  crop  after  crop  from  the  same 
roots  through  a  long  succession  of  years,  without 
any  diminution  either  in  quality  or  quantity.  The 
lovely  valley  is  seen  covered  with  luxuriant  cane- 
fields,  ^nd  studded  at  distant  intervals  with  mass- 
ive and  costly  sugar  works,  and  the  commodious 
mansions  of  the  proprietors,  surrounded  by  the 
dwellings  of  various  grades  of  estate  officials,  and, 


The  Groimdless  Panic.  203 

farther   off,  with   the   numerous   cottages   of  the 
peasantry. 

Toward  the  other  extremity  of  this  large  parish 
the  traveler  gazes  upon  a  scene  of  equal  but  some- 
what different  grandeur.  It  is  the  Blue  Mountain 
Valley.  By  the  side  of  a  broad  but  shallow  river, 
whose  usually  gentle  stream  is  swollen,  in  the 
rainy  seasons,  to  a  fierce,  turgid,  tumbling,  impassa- 
ble torrent,  the  eye  rests  upon  a  plain  dotted  with 
sugar  plantations,  and  rich  with  all  the  varied  and 
luxuriant  growth  of  the  tropics.  The  upper  end 
of  the  valley  is  closed  in  by  the  glorious  mount- 
ain range,  rising  abruptly,  and  in  such  proximity 
as  to  produce  upon  the  mind  an  almost  overwhelm- 
ing sense  of  awe,  out  of  the  midst  of  which  the 
Blue  Mountain  peak — the  highest  point  of  land  in 
the  island — is  seen,  a  sublime  and  stupendous 
object,  lifting  its  head,  often  in  cloudless  grandeur, 
and  always  fresh  and  verdant,  nearly  eight  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  But,  amjd 
all  this  loveliness,  the  curse  which  sin  introduced 
into  the  original  Eden  makes  its  influence  felt. 
Beautiful,  but  proverbially  unhealthy,  the  parish 
of  St.  Thomas  in  the  East  has  been,  in  a  most 
emphatic  sense,  the  grave  of  Europeans.  Few 
parts  of  the  western  coast  of  Africa  have  been  more 
hostile  to  European  health  and  life.  The  town  of 
Morant  Bay,  occupying  a  picturesque  situation, 
elevated  considerably  above  the  sea  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Blue  Mountain  Valley,  has  been  long 
noted  for  its  unhealthiness.  The  graves  of  a  large 
number  of  Christian  missionaries,  and  numerous 


204         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

members  of  missionaries'  families,  both  in  the 
church-yard  and  in  the  unpretending  burial 
ground  of  the  Methodists,  bear  silent  but  eloquent 
witness  to  the  deadly  character  of  the  maladies 
which  frequently  prevail  there. 

Morant  Bay  is  the  capital  town  of  the  parish, 
though  scarcely  equal  in  size  and  importance  to 
many  an  English  village.  Here  stands  the  church, 
which  in  the  olden  time,  ere  missionaries  came, 
(when  persons  of  African  birth,  or  of  African  de- 
scent, were  regarded  as  having  no  souls,  and  form- 
ing no  part  of  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  clergy,) 
was  the  only  place  of  worship  in  a  parish  contain- 
ing some  thirty  thousand  souls !  It  is  different 
now ;  for  several  other  Episcopal  places  of  worship 
now  exist  in  that  parish,  and  also  a  goodly  number 
of  Methodist  chapels.  At  some  little  distance, 
somewhat  back  from  the  main  street,  stands  the 
Wesleyan  chapel,  its  proportions  considerably  ex- 
tended, and  its  appearance  greatly  improved,  since 
the  advent  of  freedom.  The  old  humble-looking 
edifice,  near  to  which  stood  the  mission  house,  was 
erected  under  the  auspices  of  the  good  and  unself- 
ish Dr.  Coke,  whose  private  fortune,  doubtless, 
contributed  largely  to  the  establishment  of  the 
mission  here  which,  during  more  than  half  a 
century,  has  brought  life  and  salvation  to  thousands 
of  the  benighted  race  of  Africa. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  present  century  some 
colored  local  preachers  belonging  to  the  Meth- 
odist Society  in  Kingston  found  their  way  to 
Morant  Bay,  and  gave  to  the  swarming  multitudes 


The  Groundless  Panic.  205 

of  the  neighborhood  a  first  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing the  truths  of  the  Gospel.  For,  even  when 
service  was  held  in  the  parish  church,  (which  was 
only  when  it  suited  the  convenience  of  the  rector,) 
its  doors  opened  only  to  those  who  could  boast 
of  a  white  complexion.  Divine  power  attended 
the  word  preached  by  these  humble  messengers 
of  truth,  and  many,  both  slave  and  free,  were 
brought  into  the  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. 
Messrs.  Fish  and  Campbell,  the  missionaries  in  the 
city,  soon  visited  the  neighborhood,  and  one  of  the 
most  fruitful  of  all  our  West  India  stations  was  es- 
tablished. In  the  face  of  such  reproach,  of  vio- 
lence and  persecution,  the  foundations  of  a  pros- 
perous Church  was  laid.  But  the  enemies  of  the 
truth  did  not  rest  satisfied  with  mobbing  preachers, 
annoying  and  insulting  those  who  assembled  to 
worship,  and  subjecting  praying  slaves  to  the 
gyves  and  the  cart-whip.  To  Morant  Bay,  and  the 
magistrates  and  planters  of  St.  Thomas  in  the 
East,  belongs  the  unenviable  distinction  of  origin- 
ating that  system  of  legal  persecution  of  Christian 
teachers,  and  statuary  opposition  to  the  religious 
instruction  of  the  down-trodden  negro,  that  dis- 
honored Jamaica  from  the  opening  of  the  present 
century  until  religious  liberty  was  finally  secured 
to  all  classes  in  the  British  West  Indies,  by  the 
enactment  of  the  imperial  legislature  which  broke 
the  power  of  the  oppressor,  and  gave  back  the 
rights  of  humanity  to  the  slave.  To  the  influence 
and  representations  of  the  planters  and  magistrates 
of  this  parish  was  it  owing   that  the  island  legis- 


2o6        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

lature  was  induced  to  pass  the  first  of  a  series 
of  oppressive  laws  which,  through  a  succession  of 
years,  caused  the  imprisonment  of  many  mission- 
aries, and  which  will  remain  for  generations  yet 
to  come  dark  blots  upon  the  statute  book  of  the 
colony. 

The  incidents  of  our  tale  carry  us  back  to  an 
early  date  in  the  present  century,  when  the  preach- 
ing of  the  Methodists  is  as  yet  somewhat  of  a 
novelty  in  this  part  of  the  island,  and  the  members 
of  the  Society  are  comparatively  few.  A  death 
has  taken  place  on  one  of  the  plantations — no  ex- 
traordinary occurrence  that !  It  is  a  female  slave, 
worn  out  by  excessive  toil  and  hardship,  who  has 
passed  away  to  an  unbroken  rest :  for  she  is  one 
of  the  earliest  fruits  of  missionary  labor  at  this 
station.  Having  sought  and  realized  the  hallow- 
ing and  elevating  joys  of  true  religion,  through 
faith  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  she  has  departed 
in  peace  to  join  the  blood-washed  multitude  be- 
fore the  throne,  who  "  hunger  no  more,  neither 
thirst  any  more,  neither  doth  the  sun  light  on 
them,  nor  any  heat."  Her  Christian  course  has 
been  a  brief  one,  (for  but  recently  she  first  heard 
of  God,  and  Christ,  and  salvation,  and  heaven,) 
but  how  great  and  blessed  the  change  Avhich  has 
crowned  it  ! — from  the  blood-stained  plantation  to 
the  celestial  paradise ;  from  a  wretched,  unfur- 
nished hovel,  to  the  mansions  of  light  and  glory ; 
from  the  toil-worn  and  bleeding  slave-gang  to  the 
glorious  company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  the 
just  made  perfect;  from  the  horrible  discipline  of 


The  Groundless  Panic.  207 

the  bilboes,  and  the  cat,  and  the  cart-whip,  and 
the  wasting,  weary  toil  of  the  cane-field,  to  that 
"  fullness  of  joy,"  and  those  "  pleasures  for  ever- 
more," which  are  at  the  right  hand  of  God  !  Who 
can  wonder  that  the  Gospel  should  have  proved 
thrice  welcome,  both  in  our  own  colonies,  and  in 
the  Southern  States  of  America,  to  the  desponding 
and  heart-crushed  captive? 

A  slave  can  own  nothing — not  even  his  own 
body,  or  the  worthless  rags  that  cover  it.  Body, 
soul,  time,  labor,  clothing — all  he  is,  and  all  he 
has — belong  to  his  owner.  In  yonder  poor  hut, 
which  she  inhabits  no  longer,  there  is  the  coarse 
box  or  trunk,  wherein  the  departed  negress  was 
accustomed  to  keep  the  few  scanty  articles  of  ap- 
parel she  used  to  wear  —  the  cherished  Sunday 
suit,  very  humble,  but  donned  only  when  the  cov- 
eted opportunity  came,  which  was  but  seldom,  of 
bending  her  steps  to  the  house  of  God.  This  box 
and  its  contents  fall  now  into  the  possession  of 
plantation  officials,  probably  to  furnish  the  ward- 
robe of  some  unhappy  creature  just  landed  from 
the  slave-ship,  after  a  miserable  and  soul-sicken- 
ing voyage  from  the  coast  of  her  native  Africa,  to 
fill  up  the  vacancy  on  the  estate  which  death,  with 
so  little  regard  to  the  interests  of  the  great  man 
who  owns  the  plantation  and  its  slaves,  has  re- 
cently made.  Along  with  the  rest  of  the  few  arti- 
cles in  the  box  there  is  found,  very  carefully 
folded  in  a  fragment  of  old  cloth,  and  put  away 
in  a  corner,  a  small  oblong  piece  of  paper,  upon 
which,  in  addition  to  several  hieroglyphics,  there 


2o8        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

is  printed  in  fair  legible  type  a  text  of  Scripture  : 
"  The  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and 
the  violent  take  it  by  force."  The  book-keeper, 
one  of  the  officials,  (so  called,  it  has  been  said, 
*'  because  he  never  sees  a  book,")  greatly  sur- 
prised, takes  the  mysterious  paper  in  hand  and 
examines  it  in  all  possible  ways — back  and  front, 
right  side  up  and  upside  down — but  he  is  alto- 
gether at  a  loss  to  understand  what  it  means.  He 
is  just  scholar  enough  to  spell  out  the  plain  words ; 
but  there  are  other  printed  characters — "  Matt. 
xi,  12" — of  which  he  can  make  nothing  at  all, 
and  as  to  the  few  marks,  evidently  made  with  pen 
and  ink,  on  different  parts  of  the  paper,  they  are 
altogether  a  mystery  that  he  is  unable  to  fathom. 
But  he  has  a  dreamy  apprehension  that  there  must 
be  in  all  this  something  very  wrong  and  very  ter- 
rible. 

The  scrap  of  paper  is  taken  and  shown  to  other 
white  officials  of  the  estate,  including  book-keep- 
ers, head  mason,  head  carpenter,  etc.,  etc.  But 
beyond  reading  the  printed  words  they  can  make 
nothing  of  it,  until  one,  a  little  more  clever  than 
his  fellows,  succeeds  in  spelling  out  in  part  of  the 
writing  the  name  of  the  deceased  slave.  This  is 
startling,  and  only  deepens  the  mystery,  for  where 
could  she  have  got  that  piece  of  paper  with  the 
threatening  language  printed  on  it  ?  and  who  could 
have  written  her  name  upon  it  ?  It  is  evident 
there  is  something  very  wrong  about  the  matter, 
and  with  all  haste  the  suspected  document  is  car- 
ried to  the  overseer  of  the  estate.     The  "busha" 


The  Groundless  Panic.  209 

— the  negro  ccntraction  of  overseer — takes  the  pa- 
per from  his  subordinates  after  hearing  the  alarm- 
ing details  of  its  discovery.  He  is  an  older  hand 
than  they,  and  he  has  heard  more  about  the  sedi- 
tious preaching  of  the  missionaries,  and  is  more 
familiar  with  rumors  of  conspiracy  and  insurrec- 
tion than  his  subordinates,  most  of  whom,  adven- 
turers from  Scotland,  have  not  themselves  very 
long  landed.  The  more  he  looks  at  the  paper, 
and  at  the  inexplicable  words  and  marks  it  bears, 
and  the  more  he  thinks  of  the  strange  circum- 
stances in  which  it  has  been  brought  to  light,  the 
more  excited  and  alarmed  he  becomes,  until  at 
length  he  arrives  at  the  satisfactory  conclusion 
that  he  has  in  his  hands  a  clue  to  one  of  those 
dire  conspiracies  which  have  so  often  horrified 
the  imaginations  of  the  planters ;  for  there  is 
manifestly,  he  thinks,  some  dark  and  terrible 
meaning  wrapped  up  in  those  significant  words 
about  the  violent  taking  something  by  force. 

Inflated  not  a  little  with  a  flattering  idea  of  the 
discovery  he  has  made — his  fancy  meantime  run- 
ning riot  in  scenes  of  insurrection,  burning  plan- 
tations, militia  marchings  and  countermarchings, 
slaughtered  negroes,  courts-martial,  and  military 
executions,  and  not  without  some  glimmering  an- 
ticipations of  honor,  patronage,  and  profit  which 
are  to  reward  his  own  meritorious  sagacity  and 
zeal — the  overseer  gives  orders  for  his  horse  to  be 
saddled  with  all  possible  haste,  and,  without  the 
loss  of  a  minute,  gallops  off  with  the  cabalistic 
paper  to  the  residence  of  the  cusios.     (Such  is  the 


2IO        Romance  Without  Fiction, 

title  of  the  chief  magistrate  of  a  Jamaica  parish, 
something  analogous  to  that  of  a  lord-lieutenant 
of  an  English  county.)  The  hour  is  unseasonable, 
(for  by  this  time  the  day  is  far  advanced,)  and  it  is 
a  question  whether  the  custos  will  see  him,  or  in- 
deed whether  "  his  honor  "  is  likely  to  be  in  a 
state  fit  for  the  transaction  of  public  business. 
In  truth,  after  imbibing  all  the  punch  and  other 
fluids  which  they  think  necessary  to  supply  the 
rapid  exhaustion  of  physical  power  within  the 
tropics,  some  of  these  dignitaries  are  not  usually 
quite  up  to  the  mark  for  important  official  duty  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  day.  But  here  is  a  matter 
admitting  of  no  delay.  Fit  or  unfit,  sober  or  oth- 
erwise, the  great  man  must  soon  be  seen.  The 
name  of  the  overseer  is  accordingly  sent  in,  with 
an  intimation  that  business  of  the  greatest  ur- 
gency, as  connected  with  the  public  safety,  brings 
him  hither.  To  the  request  for  an  interview,  so 
enforced,  there  can  be  no  denial,  and  the  visitor 
is  shown  into  the  great  man's  presence.  The 
strange  paper  is  produced,  and  the  circumstances 
of  its  discovery  are  fully  explained  to  the  legal 
functionary,  who  looks  very  grave,  for  he,  like  the 
overseer,  can  make  nothing  of  it,  except  that  some 
awful  conspiracy  is  on  foot,  for  the  tracing  and 
suppression  of  which  prompt  and  decisive  meas- 
ures must  be  taken. 

Having,  with  the  aid  of  the  overseer's  logic,  got 
this  conviction  firmly  settled  in  his  mind,  the  cus- 
tos concludes  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost. 
Special    messengers    are    at    once    dispatched    to 


The  Grciindlcss  Panic.  2ii 

summon  all  the  magistrates  in  the  vicinity  to 
meet  him  at  an  early  hour  next  day  on  very  spe- 
cial  business,  while  other  messengers  are  sent  off 
by  his  orders  (for  he  acts  in  a  twofold  capacity)  to 
assemble  as  large  a  force  of  the  militia  as  can  be 
brought  together  at  the  court-house  during  the 
night  or  early  in  the  morning,  all  fully  armed  and 
accoutered  for  whatever  service  may  be  demanded 
at  their  hands.  From  one  plantation  to  another 
the  alarm  is  sounded,  and  the  peaceable  inhab- 
itants of  the  town  are  startled  at  all  hours  through- 
out the  night  by  the  noisy  gathering  of  those  who 
compose  this  force,  and  of  their  attendants,  who 
come  rattling  through  the  generally  quiet  streets 
as  if  they  were  followed  by  a  pursuing  army. 
Soon  sleep  is  banished  from  all  eyes  by  rumors  of 
a  most  bloody  insurrection  that  has  broken  out 
already,  or  is  on  the  point  of  breaking  out  among 
the  servile  population.  None  can  tell  where  the 
danger  lies,  whether  it  is  in  some  distant  part  of 
the  island,  or  close  at  their  own  doors ;  but  that 
there  is  danger,  very  great  and  imminent,  none 
can  doubt,  or  wherefore  all  this  stir }  The  dawn 
brings  no  relief,  but  rather  adds  to  the  confusion 
and  alarm,  for  more  and  more  of  the  planters 
(who  chiefly  compose  the  militia  force)  from  all 
the  estates  within  a  distance  of  some  miles  are 
seen,  with  every  indication  of  haste,  hurrying 
through  the  town,  with  their  soldierly  equipments  ; 
and  at  an  unusually  early  hour  the  magistrates 
from  different   parts   of  the   parish,  followed  by 

ucgro  boys  riding  upon  mules,  are  also  seen  driv- 
14 


212         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

ing  with  haste  in  the  direction  of  the  court-house. 
Every  thing  seems  to  imply  that  a  crisis  is  at  hand, 
which  the  authorities  regard  as  one  of  the  greatest 
importance. 

A  considerable  number  of  the  learned  magis- 
trates of  the  parish,  with  the  custos  at  their  head, 
are  soon  in  profound  deliberation.  What  serves 
to  increase  the  alarm  among  the  uninitiated  is  the 
fact  that  they  carry  on  their  deliberations  with 
closed  doors.  All  approach,  except  for  the  i^riv- 
ileged,  is  carefully  forbidden  by  armed  sentinels. 
In  this  conclave  of  parish  magnates  there  is  great 
excitement.  All  are  anxious  to  be  put  in  posses- 
sion of  the  particulars  of  the  horrid  conspiracy 
which  has  been  discovered.  When  a  sufficient 
number  of  the  dignitaries  have  assembled  the 
business  is  opened.  The  important  paper  is  pro- 
duced, and  the  overseer,  not  a  little  elevated  in 
his  own  estimation,  is  called  upon  to  state  all  the 
circumstances  which  led  to  the  discovery  of  the 
seditious  document  before  the  meeting,  for  that  is 
the  character  which  by  general  consent  has  been 
fixed  upon  the  ticket.  Nothing  loth,  he  addresses 
himself  to  the  task.  Their  worships  are  duly  in- 
formed, with  all  minuteness  of  detail,  when  and 
where  and  how  the  paper  was  found.  Next  are 
rehearsed  the  opinions  and  surmises  which  have 
been  entertained  by  the  different  parties  con- 
cerned in  making  the  discovery.  To  all  this  is 
added  the  statement,  which  has  been  gleaned  up  by 
some  means,  that  the  deceased  slave,  whose  name 
is  on  the  paper,  had  been  for  some  time  in  the 


The  Groimdless  Panic.  213 

habit  of  going  to  the  Methodist  chapel  at  the  Bay, 
and  that  since  she  went  thither  a  great  change 
had  taken  place  in  her  habits  and  appearance. 
In  fact  she  became  much  more  reserved  and 
thoughtful  than  she  used  to  be,  as  if  she  had 
something  more  than  usual  upon  her  mind.  She 
now  took  no  part,  as  she  had  been  wont  to  do,  in 
the  dances  and  revels  which  the  other  slaves  on 
the  estate  got  up  occasionally.  All  this,  of  course, 
is  regarded  as  matter  of  grave  suspicion,  and,  after 
long  consultation,  there  is  but  one  opinion  among 
that  sagacious  and  learned  body  of  magistrates, 
that  it  is  a  case  pregnant  with  great  danger  to  the 
country,  and  demanding  most  prompt  and  careful 
inquiry. 

After  several  long  hours  spent  in  discussion,  (so 
earnest  and  exhausting  as  to  demand  a  very  liberal 
expenditure  of  wine,  punch,  or  brandy,)  it  is  re- 
solved to  send  out  all  the  militia  that  can  be 
spared,  a  sufficient  force  being  kept  in  reserve  for 
the  defense  of  the  town  ;  though  no  one  can  say 
what  possible  danger  threatens  it,  or  whence  any 
is  likely  to  proceed.  Further,  that  all'  the  huts, 
etc.,  belonging  to  the  estates  in  the  neighborhood 
where  the  slave  has  died,  under  such  suspicion, 
should  be  at  once  rigorously  searched.  The 
question  has  been  long  and  earnestly  debated, 
whether  a  dispatch  shall  be  sent  immediately  to 
the  governor,  calling  upon  him  to  proclaim  martial 
law  in  the  parish,  or,  if  he  think  it  better,  through- 
out the  island ;  but  it  is  determined  that  the 
further   consideration  of  that   proposal   shall   be 


214        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

postponed  until  the  result  of  the  proposed  search 
of  the  huts,  etc.,  shall  have  been  ascertained. 
The  necessary  orders  are  now  issued,  and  it  is 
with  no  little  pride,  and  with  a  very  large  degree 
of  bustling  importance,  that  the  militia  officers 
muster  and  parade  the  men  under  their  command 
in  several  detachments,  before  marching  forth  on 
the  grand  expedition  assigned  to  them.  Still  the 
cause  of  these  various  movements  remains  to  all, 
except  the  magistrates  and  the  militia  officers,  a 
profound  secret ;  but  the  towns-people  are  addi- 
tionally terrified  when  they  hear  that  a  large  quan- 
tity of  ammunition  has  been  served  out  to  the 
soldiers,  and  when  they  see  one  body  aftei 
another  of  these  heroes  marching  away  by  different 
routes  into  the  country,  but  mostly  in  one  certain 
direction.  Business  is  entirely  suspended,  and  a 
vague  feeling  of  apprehension  is  prevalent  in  all 
minds. 

Meanwhile  the  detachments  of  the  militia  pro- 
ceed to  their  destination,  and,  to  the  great  terror 
of  the  several  slave-gangs,  present  themselves  in 
all  their  red-coat  glory  on  the  different  plantations. 
With  no  excessive  affectation  of  gentleness  or 
delicacy,  (for  what  need  is  there  of  gentleness  or 
delicacy  toward  negro  slaves  ?)  they  execute  their 
commission,  and  every  house  is  subjected  to  an 
unceremonious  search.  If  a  door  is  fastened,  it  is 
not  a  difficult  matter  to  break  it  down  ;  and  if  a 
box  should  chance  to  have  a  lock,  or  other  fasten- 
ing, it  is  easily  smashed  with  the  butt-end  of  a 
musket.     There  is  very  little  to  examine,  indeed, 


The  Groundless  Panic.  215 

when  by  this  summary  process  the  boxes  have  been 
made  to  give  their  contents  to  the  light ;  but  pres- 
ently there  is  much  excitement  among  the  busy 
detectives,  for,  sure  enough,  in  several  of  the  boxes 
are  found  scraps  of  paper,  not  unlike  that  above 
described,  which,  they  now  learn  from  their  offi- 
cers, are  the  very  objects  of  the  search.  Each 
one,  carefully  deposited  among  the  few  articles  of 
wearing  apparel  in  the  box  or  trunk,  is  found  to  be 
identical  with  that  seditious  document  which  has 
created  such  a  sensation.  From  one  hut  to 
another  the  soldiers  proceed,  now  wrought  up  to 
an  almost  overpowering  excess  of  earnestness  and 
zeal,  and  their  exertions  are  rewarded  by  the  dis- 
covery of  more  than  a  hundred  of  these  papers, 
the  owners  of  which,  one  and  all,  are  taken  into 
custody,  their  arms  fastened  behind  them.  From 
them  the  important  information  is  obtained  that 
all  these  papers  have  been  given  out  by  the  Meth- 
odist preacher.  There  they  are,  all  bearing  the 
same  mysterious  and  threatening  words,  "  The 
kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the 
violent  take  it  by  force,"  having  the  same  written 
marks;  the  only  difference  being,  that  each  paper 
bears  the  name  of  the  person  in  whose  possession 
it  was  found.  "  What  can  possibly  be  more 
plain  1  "  say  some.  "  Here  is  ample  and  unques- 
tionable evidence  of  a  wide-spreading  conspiiacy 
among  the  slaves,  at  the  head  of  which  is  the 
Methodist  preacher !  We  have  always  accused 
these  parsons  of  seditious  preaching,  and  here  we 
have  proof  of  the  fact — proof  strong  as  holy  writ !  " 


2i6        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Who  can  describe  the  triumph  with  which  these 
military  gentlemen  exult  over  the  magnificent 
success  which  has  crowned  their  expedition  ? 
And  who  shall  picture  the  excitement  of  the  towns- 
people ? — not,  however,  unmixed  with  a  sense  of 
relief,  when  they  behold  scores  of  wretched  cap- 
tives, securely  bound,  marched  into  the  town  sur- 
rounded by  fixed  bayonets  ;  all  of  whom,  they  are 
assured,  are  the  leaders  of  the  insurrection  which 
was  on  the  point  of  breaking  out.  And  now 
rumor,  with  her  hundred  tongues,  is  busy.  Through 
the  town  and  through  the  parish  the  intelligence 
swiftly  spreads  that  a  most  sanguinary  revolt  has 
been  nipped  in  the  bud.  And  soon,  through  the 
medium  of  the  newspapers,  the  public,  from  the 
east  to  the  west  of  the  island,  are  startled  by  the 
intelligence  from  St.  Thomas  in  the  East  that 
seditious  meetings  have  been  held  in  the  houses 
of  the  slaves  at  midnight ;  that  the  negroes  have 
been  corrupted,  and  led  to  rebellion,  by  the 
preaching  of  the  Methodists  ;  that  a  large  quanti- 
ty of  seditious  papers  have  been  seized;  and  that, 
by  the  prompt  and  courageous  conduct  of  the 
custos  and  the  magistrates,  anfl  the  bravery  of  the 
militia,  "  beyond  all  praise,"  the  island  has  been 
rescued  from  the  horrors  of  a  servile  war. 

It  is  deemed  advisable  by  the  authorities  to 
place  a  strong  militia  force  upon  the  several  plan- 
tations where  these  papers  have  been  seized  to 
prevent  the  rising  of  the  slaves,  who,  poor  crea- 
tures !  have  no  more  thought  of  any  insurrec- 
tionary movement    than   of  attempting   to   uproot 


The  Groundless  Panic.  217 

the  Blue  Mountains,  to  which  they  are  accus- 
tomed daily  to  lift  their  eyes.  They  take  alarm, 
however,  and  wonder  what  all  this  commotion 
is  about,  and  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  rude  and 
unceremonious  searching  of  their  lowly  dwellings. 
And  they  are  still  more  amazed  when  they  see  a 
large  number  of  their  fellows,  whose  houses  and 
boxes  have  been  broken  open,  tied  and  marched 
off  to  the  Bay.  The  venerable  magistrates  have 
been  very  busy  in  consequence  of  the  important 
discoveries  made,  of  which  a  full  account  has  been 
sent  off  by  an  express  messenger  to  the  king's 
house,  at  the  seat  of  Government.  A  few  days 
have  elapsed,  and  all  the  justices  of  the  parish  as- 
sembled in  special  session ;  yea,  and  some  from 
the  adjoining  parishes,  who,  terror-struck  by  the 
reports  in  circulation,  have  come  as  spectators  of 
the  proceedings.  Not  a  few  of  them  loom  very 
large  in  the  proud  adorning  of  military  costume, 
being  holders  both  of  civil  and  military  commis- 
sions ;  and  such  an  opportunity  of  showing  off  in 
the  blazonry  of  war  is  not  to  pass  unimproved. 
Some  time  is  spent  in  preliminary  discussion,  until, 
all  things  being  ready,  a  party  is  dispatched  to 
request  the  attendance  of  the  Methodist  preacher 
at  the  court-house,  strong  enough,  by  the  way,  to 
insure  a  compliance  with  the  magisterial  mandate 
should  there  be  any  difficulty  in  obeying  it.  But 
no  compulsion  is  required  :  Methodist  preachers 
being  in  the  habit  of  paying  due  respect  to  "  the 
powers  that  be,"  as  a  part  of  their  religion.  The 
missionary,   who,  like  all   others,  has  been  studi- 


2i8         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

ously  kept  in  the  dark  as  to  the  cause  of  the  un- 
usual stir,  begins,  however,  as  he  prepares  to  ac- 
company the  military  messengers,  to  ask  himself 
what  he  can  have  to  do  with  these  strange  proceed- 
ings, and  what  sort  of  service  the  magistrates 
can  wish  him  to  render  on  the  occasion  of  a 
conspiracy,  real  or  fancied.  It  never  enters  into 
his  mind  that  any  charge  can  be  made  against 
himself.  Ready  for  any  lawful  service  to  which 
he  may  be  put,  with  willing  step  he  wends  his  way 
to  the  court-house,  and  is  at  once  introduced  into 
the  presence  of  the  "  powers  "  awaiting  his  arrival. 
On  looking  around  he  observes  that  a  deep  gravity 
marks  the  countenance  of  almost  every  one  ;  and  it 
is  clear  that  his  appearance,  though  fully  expected, 
has  caused  no  little  sensation.  It  is  no  small  trial 
to  his  modesty  when  he  finds  himself  the  observed 
of  all  observers,  and  he  soon  perceives  that  it  is 
any  thing  but  a  friendly  gaze  which  is  directed 
toward  him  by  the  custos  and  his  associates.  A 
dark  frown  meets  his  eye  in  one  direction,  and  the 
scowl  of  a  fierce  malignity  in  another;  while  the 
conviction  forces  itself  upon  him  that,  whatever 
may  be  the  purpose,  it  is  no  amicable  interview 
with  these  legal  dignitaries  to  which  he  has  been 
summoned. 

He  is  not  left  long  in  doubt.  After  some  whis- 
pering with  his  brother  magistrates,  the  custos  pro- 
ceeds, with  a  good  deal  of  appropriate  circumlo- 
cution, to  open  the  business,  and  explain  to  the 
wondering  missionary  that  a  discovery  has  been 
made    of  a    wide-spread    conspiracy    against    the 


The  Groundless  Panic.  219 

peace  and  welfare  of  the  colony ;  that  a  search 
ha's  been  instituted  which  has  resulted  in  the  seiz- 
ure of  a  large  quantity  of  papers  of  evil  character 
and  tendency  ;  that  many  slaves  implicated  in  the 
conspiracy,  in  whose  possession  these  papers  were 
found  concealed,  have  been  arrested,  and  are  now 
in  custody  ;  and  that,  by  the  confession  of  many 
of  these  prisoners,  the  whole  conspiracy  has  been 
traced  to  him  as  its  mainspring  and  source,  inas- 
much as  they  had  received  the  papers  from  his 
hands  ;  and  that  he  must  consider  himself  now  in 
custody  on  the  very  serious  charge  of  rebellion. 
At  first,  as  the  speaker  proceeds,  charging  home 
these  serious  offenses  upon  himself,  the  missionary 
is  astounded  and  overwhelmed  by  the  accusation, 
thinking  it  quite  possible,  from  the  spirit  of  invet- 
erate hostility  with  which  Christian  efforts  have 
been  uniformly  met  by  the  planters  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, that  some  wicked  plot  has  been  devised 
against  him.  But  the  tediousness  of  the  custos, 
who  has  made  the  most  of  this  occasion  to  display 
his  stumbling  and  stammering  eloquence,  has  been 
so  far  favorable  to  the  accused  that  it  has  given 
him  time  to  recover  self-possession,  and  long  be- 
fore the  elaborate  and  rambling  address  of  the 
great  man  has  reached  its  finale  the  guiltless 
preacher  is  ready  to  confront  the  accusation  and 
his  accusers.  Being  called  upon  to  say  what  reply 
he  has  to  make  to  this  grave  charge,  he,  first  of  all, 
requests  permission  to  look  at  some  of  those  papers 
of  seditious  character  and  tendency  which  he  is 
accused  of  having  circulated.     A  lengthv  consul- 


220        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

tation  now  takes  place  among  the  officials  on  the 
bench,  and  it  appears  there  is  no  little  difficulty 
about  the  matter.  For  first  one  of  these  gentle- 
men is  called,  and  then  another,  from  different 
parts  of  the  room,  to  the  consultation,  the  whole 
of  which  is  carried  on  in  a  low  tone,  so  that  noth- 
ing may  reach  the  missionary's  ear.  At  length  the 
custos  announces  that  the  bench,  after  due  delib- 
eration, and  with  a  willingness  to  grant  any  in- 
dulgence to  one  in  his  situation,  have  agreed  to 
comply  with  his  request,  and  a  paper,  which  ap- 
pears to  him  surprisingly  small,  (considering  the 
character  which  has  been  given  to  it,)  is  handed 
to  the  accused,  with  the  intimation  that  it  is  only 
one  of  a  large  number  in  the  hands  of  the  magis- 
trates. That  one,  he  is  told,  was  found  in  the 
box  of  a  dead  slave,  but  many  others  have  been 
discovered  in  the  possession  of  living  slaves,  who 
confess  to  having  received  them  from  the  hands  of 
the  Methodist  minister.  As  the  paper  is  handed 
to  him  every  eye  in  the  room  is  directed  toward 
the  missionary.  At  first  an  expression  of  unutter- 
able astonishment  is  visible  on  his  countenance, 
which  some  of  the  observers  regard  as  an  indubi- 
table sign  of  guilt,  but  in  a  few  seconds  this  gives 
place  to  the  broad  smile  which  a  keen  sense  of  the 
ludicrous  is  apt  to  call  forth,  an^  it  becomes  evi- 
dent to  them  all  that  the  black-coated  gentleman 
is  restrained  by  a  sense  of  the  respect  due  to  the 
court,  and  by  that  only,  from  giving  way  to  an 
exuberant  tide  of  mirth,  which  it  would  be  some 
relief  to  him  to  indulge. 


TJie  Grotindless  Panic.  221 

Not  a  little  surprised,  and  somewhat  offended, 
by  a  result  so  contrary  to  the  expectations  of  the 
grave  assembly,  every  member  of  which  has  had 
visions  before  his  mind's  eye  of  a  man  in  a  black 
coat  swinging  upon  the  gallows,  the  acstos  inquires 
of  the  reverend  gentleman  what  he  has  to  say  con- 
cerning that  paper,  and  the  others  like  it,  and 
whether  it  is  true  that  these  documents  have  been 
distributed  by  him  among  the  slaves.  Certainly 
he  cannot  deny,  and  he  does  not  wish  to  disguise 
it,  that  he  gave  that  paper  to  the  deceased  slave, 
and  that  he  has  given  out  many  of  a  similar  de- 
scription to  other  persons,  both  free  and  slaves,  a 
piece  of  intelligence  which  goes  to  confirm  their 
worst  suspicions.  But  great  is  their  astonishment, 
not  unmixed  with  doubt,  when,  with  smiling  grav- 
ity, he  proceeds  to  inform  them  that  the  "  sedi- 
tious "  paper,  which  has  so  alarmed  their  honors, 
and  spread  such  terror  through  the  parish,  is  noth- 
ing more  or  less  than  a  Methodist  Ticket.,  given  as 
a  token  of  membership  to  all  those  who  constitute 
the  Societies  or  Churches  of  the  body,  and  de- 
signed to  show  that  the  holders  are  entitled  to  the 
privilege  of  Christian  communion.  It  is  amusing 
to  see  the  somewhat  stolid  features  of  the  chief 
magistrate  assume  an  expression  of  blank  amaze- 
ment, which  is  shared,  more  or  less,  by  those  about 
him ;  but  one  or  two,  who  have  wit  to  discern  and 
appreciate  the  absurdity  of  the  whole  proceeding, 
look  a  little  quizzical,  half  ashamed  to  feel  that 
they  have  been  betrayed  into  a  false  position. 
"  But,  sir,"  says  the  cusfos,  by  no  means  disposed 


222         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

to  admit  the  explanation  that  has  been  given, 
"  how  do  you  account  for  the  highly  inflammatory 
and  dangerous  words  which  we  find  upon  this 
paper?  Answer  me  that,  sir!  answer  me  that!" 
"  Most  readily,  sir,"  replies  the  missionary. 
"  Those  words,  which  you  regard  as  inflammatory 
and  dangerous,  are  taken  from  the  Holy  Script- 
ures." Here  looks  of  incredulity  pass  from  one 
to  another,  while  the  missionary  continues  his  ex- 
planation :  "  It  is  a  passage  which  contains  an  ex- 
hortation to  press  into  'the  kingdom  of  God,'  and 
to  '  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith  '  against  all  that 
oppose  the  salvation  of  our  souls.  Those  words, 
sir,  were  certainly  never  intended  by  Him  who 
first  used  them,  or  by  his  ministers,  to  stir  up  any 
one  to  commit  violence  against  '  the  powers  that 
be.'  His  teaching — and  ours,  we  hope,  is  in  ac- 
cordance with  it — instructs  all  to  be  subject  to 
those  powers,  '  not  only  for  wrath,  but  for  con- 
science'sake.' "  "  A  passage  of  Scripture!"  re- 
plies his  honor;  "no  such  thing!  I  don't  believe 
it !  I  don't  think  those  inflammatory  words  are  to 
be  found  in  the  Bible  !  "  A  Bible  is  called  for, 
but  there  is  none  at  hand,  and  while  one  is  looked 
up  (for  there  ought  to  be  one  somewhere,  which 
has  been  occasionally  used  for  administering  the 
oath  to  witnesses  at  the  quarter  sessions)  one  of 
the  magistrates,  a  Scotchman,  comes  forward  from 
a  distant  corner,  and  says,  "  Excuse  me,  your 
honor,  but  I  think  I  remember  reading  some  such 
words  in  the  Bible  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  am  dis- 
posed to  believe,  after  all,  the   gentleman   is  cor- 


The  Gro7indless  Panic.  223 

rect."  This  leads  to  a  little  discussion,  and  by 
the  time  it  is  finished  the  old  tattered  fragment  of 
a  Bible,  which  forms  part  of  the  court-house  furni- 
ture, has  been  found.  There  is  not  a  great  deal 
of  the  Old  Testament  left,  after  long  and  rough 
service,  and  only  a  small  portion  of  the  New ;  but, 
fortunately,  the  Gospel  of  Matthew  is  there,  or  as 
much  of  it  as  serves  the  purpose.  And  now  the 
learned  magistrates  are  astonished  by  another  dis- 
covery, of  which  none  of  them  seem  to  have  the 
least  conception,  namely,  that  the  strange  marks, 
"  Matt,  xi,  12,"  only  mean  that  the  words  printed 
on  the  card  are  to  be  found  in  the  eleventh  chap- 
ter of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel,  and  at  the  twelfth 
verse  !  On  reference  to  the  place  thus  indicated, 
there,  to  the  sad  discomfiture  of  the  learned  custos, 
are  found  the  very  words  which  have  caused  so 
much  dismay. 

All  this,  however,  does  not  satisfy  his  honor  and 
some  of  his  compeers  that  there  is  not  something 
very  wrong  in  the  business.  The  explanation  given 
by  the  missionary  shows  that  there  is  to  be  some 
"fighting"  in  the  case,  and  their  minds  are  so 
prepossessed  with  visions  of  insurrection  and  re- 
volt, massacre  and  blood,  blazing  cane-fields  and 
burning  sugar-works,  that,  notwithstanding  what 
has  been  said,  they  are  more  than  half  persuaded 
that  the  issuing  of  these  papers  is  part  of  a  scheme 
designed  to  work  out  all  these  dreadful  results ;  so 
the  missionary  is  likely,  after  all,  to  experience 
some  trouble  before  he  succeeds  in  getting  out  of 
the  hands  of  these   intelligent   guardians  of  the 


224         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

public  peace.  But  the  Scotchman,  who  possesses 
a  little  more  penetration  and  shrewdness  than 
others  about  him,  and  who  is  less  disposed  than 
many  of  them  to  conclude  that  treason  and  rebell- 
ion must  of  necessity  be  a  principal  object  of  a 
Methodist  preacher,  again  comes  from  his  corner, 
and,  in  a  short  and  pithy  address  to  his  learned 
colleagues,  observes,  "  Your  honor,  the  words  on 
the  cards  are  certainly  taken  from  the  Scriptures, 
though  none  of  us  were  aware  of  it  until  the  mis- 
sionary showed  that  it  was  so.  But,  whether  they 
are  taken  from  the  Bible  or  not,  they  scarcely  ad- 
mit of  the  construction  that  has  been  put  upon 
them,  for  although  Jamaica  is  truly  a  very  fine 
and  prosperous  country,  yet,  with  all  its  delights, 
it  can  in  no  wise  be  called  '  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  I  presume,  therefore,  to  suggest  to  your 
honor  and  my  brother  magistrates  that  as  what  the 
gentleman  has  said  about  the  words  being  in  the 
Bible  turn  out  to  be  true,  and  we  do  not  seem  to 
know  much  about  such  matters  ourselves,  and  as 
no  overt  act  of  rebellion  has  been  committed,  we 
may  venture  to  take  the  word  of  the  Methodist 
parson  for  once,  and  accept  as  satisfactory  the  ex- 
planation which  he  has  given  of  this  very  suspicious 
business." 

A  few  of  the  magistrates  have  by  this  time 
stolen  away  very  quietly,  the  affair  having  assumed 
an  aspect  perfectly  ludicrous.  After  a  little  pri- 
vate consultation  among  themselves,  the  suggestion 
made  by  the  Scotch  gentleman  is  accepted  by 
those   who  remain,  who  have  failed  to  perceive 


The  Groundless  Panic.  22$ 

the  small  spice  of  irony  with  which  it  was  tinct- 
ured ;  but  it  is  considered  advisable  that  the 
custos  should  cover  the  retreat  of  the  learned  body 
by  delivering  a  suitable  admonition  to  the  sup- 
posed culprit  before  he  is  discharged.  With  all 
the  gravity  and  impressiveness  he  can  command, 
the  chief  magistrate  proceeds  to  this  important 
task,  which  he  accomplishes  to  the  profound  satis- 
faction both  of  himself  and  of  the  body  of  which 

he  is  the  distinguished  head  :  "  Mr. ,  w^e  are 

satisfied  with  your  explanation  of  the  present  affair. 
But  a  word  of  caution  may  be  useful  to  you.  And 
mind,  sir,  we  have  our  eyes  upon  you.  We  have 
no  objection  to  your  preaching  to  our  negroes, 
provided  you  do  so  properly.  Tell  them  to  be 
good  servants,  sir.  Tell  them  not  to  lie  to  their 
masters,  nor  to  steal  from  them.  Tell  them  not 
to  be  runaways,  but  to  stay  at  home,  and  mind  and 
do  their  masters'  work.  Preach  this  to  them,  sir, 
and  welcome.  But  no  faith,  no  faith,  sir,  if  you 
please.  Don't  let  us  hear  of  your  preaching  faith, 
sir.  No,  no  ;  we'll  have  no  faith — no  faith.  Our 
negroes  must  not  be  corrupted  wath  such  a  doc- 
trine as  that.  Take  care  then,  sir.  Our  eyes 
are  upon  you,  sir.  Take  care,  and  don't  let  us 
catch  you  preaching  faith  to  them.  You  can  now 
retire,  sir." 

The  missionary  bows  low  at  the  conclusion  of 
this  remarkable  address,  and,  without  attempting 
a  reply,  bends  his  steps  homeward,  vastly  amused, 
if  not  greatly  edified,  by  the  unique  specimen  of 
elocution    to   which    he   has   just   listened.     The 


226         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

magisterial  conclave  breaks  up,  each  retiring 
somewhat  crestfallen,  to  his  home.  The  next 
thing  is  the  recalling  of  the  militia  from  the  plan- 
tations, on  which  they  have  been  keeping  vigilant 
guard  against  the  apprehended  outbreak.  The 
slave  prisoners  are  brought  out  of  the  stifling  cells 
in  which  they  have  been  crowded,  and  bidden  to 
go  back  to  the  estates  to  which  they  respectively 
belong,  still  profoundly  ignorant  concerning  the 
crimes  which  have  caused  their  imprisonment. 
The  excitement  in  the  town  subsides  almost  as 
rapidly  as  it  arose  ;  business  resumes  its  usual 
course  ;  and  so  ends  the  "  rebellion  "  which  has 
spread  terror  throughout  the  island  from  Manchio- 
neal  to  Negril,  filled  the  newspapers  with  wild 
and  groundless  rumors,  and  occasioned  such  an 
amount  of  perplexity  and  trouble  to  the  wise  men 
of  the  east  in  Jamaica. 

N.  B. — The  Scotch  magistrate  became  a  kind 
friend  of  the  missionaries  in  this  part  of  the 
island ;  and  it  was  partly  through  his  influence 
that,  some  years  afterAvard,  the  parish  authorities 
voted  a  grant  of  ;^ioo  to  the  widow  of  a  young 
and  laborious  missionary  who  had  fallen  a  victim 
to  the  Morant  Bay  fever. 


The  Lost  Missionary.  22^ 


IX. 

The  Lost  Missionary. 

Of  thousands  thou  both  sepulcher  and  pall, 
Old  Ocean,  art !     A  requiem  o'er  the  dead. 

From  out  thy  gloomy  cells 

A  tale  of  mourning  tells, — 
Tells  of  man's  woe  and  fall,  his  sinless  glory  fled, — Dana. 

.^3  EBE  NON  BONUM.  Such  were  the  words 
(IL^J.  in  Roman  capitals,  about  an  inch  in  length, 
and  cut  deeply  in  the  solid  wood,  that  I 
found  engraved  on  the  massive  railing  that  sepa- 
rated the  raised  quarter-deck  from  the  main-deck 
of  the  vessel  in  the  good  barque  "  Hebe."  It 
was  in  the  year  1831  that  she  was  bearing  me, 
with  my  young  wife  and  two  other  missionaries, 
across  the  Atlantic,  to  the  scene  of  our  intended 
labors  in  the  isles  of  the  Caribbean  Sea,  where 
slavery  held  more  than  three  quarters  of  a  million 
of  human  beings  in  its  cruel  grasp  ;  and  the  yellow 
fever  had  been  making  havoc  of  the  missionary 
band,  who,  in  the  face  of  bitter,  relentless  persecu- 
tion, were  toiling  with  self-denying  zeal  to  light 
up  the  dark  path  of  the  children  of  oppression 
with  the  bright  hope  of  life  and  immortality  be- 
yond the  grave.  The  "  Hebe  "  was  from  London, 
commanded  by  Captain  Lawson.  The  owner, 
Captain  Weller,  was  also  on  board,  acting  as  su- 
15 


228         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

percargo,  and  looking  well  to  the  comfort  of  the 
twenty-nine  passengers  who  had  embarked  in  his 
ship  for  their  several  destinations  in  the  West. 

"  ''Hebe  non  bonum!  '  What,  Captain  Weller," 
I  asked,  "  is  the  meaning  of  this  inscription,  so 
derogatory  to  the  character  of  the  fine  ship  that  is 
bearing  us  so  comfortably  and  safely  to  our  new 
homes  .-'  "  "  Ah  !  "  replied  he,  "  there  is  a  mel- 
ancholy story  connected  with  that  inscription. 
Those  letters  were  cut,  as  you  see  them,  by  a 
hand  that  was  cold  in  death  an  hour  after  the  in- 
scription was  completed.  It  was  the  last  act  of 
poor  Snelgrove,  who,  as  you  will  doubtless  have 
heard,  was  lost  overboard  last  year  on  the  banks 
of  Newfoundland,  when  the  ship  was  bound  to 
New  Brunswick.  He  had  been  occupied  for  an 
hour  or  two  in  cutting  out  those  letters  with  his 
penknife  when  the  accident  occurred  which,  in  a 
moment,  cut  off  the  promise  of  a  devoted  and  use- 
ful life." 

This  reply  of  the  captain,  while  it  invested  the 
few  simple  words  on  which  my  eye  was  resting 
with  a  thrilling  interest,  awakened  a  crowd  of 
memories  which  passed  vividly  before  my  mind  ; 
for  I  had  been  associated  for  a  short  season  with 
the  young  missionary  whose  career  of  usefulness 
had  been  cut  short  even  before  it  had  well  com- 
menced. 

About  a  year  before  the  inscription  first  met  my 
gaze,  I  was  one  of  a  band  of  some  twelve  or  fifteen 
young  men  assembled  at  the  Wesleyan  Mission 
House  in  Hatton  Garden,  London,  all  of  whom 


The  Lost  Missionary.  229 

were  destined  for  employment  in  the  wide  field 
of  Wesleyan  missions.  Several  of  them  had  al- 
ready received  their  appointment,  and  were  wait- 
ing until  the  vessels  should  be  ready  to  sail  which 
had  been  selected  to  convey  them  to  their  spheres 
of  toil  in  various  parts  of  the  world.  Others  were 
waiting  for  the  usual  examination  before  the  Mis- 
sionary Committee,  having  been  recommended  by 
their  several  District  Meetings  for  the  mission 
work.  Several  more,  of  whom  I  was  one,  had  been 
already  approved  and  accepted,  and  .were  about  to 
return  home  to  await  the  call  of  the  Committee 
when  openings  should  occur  in  the  missions  to 
create  a  demand  for  their  services. 

While  thus  providentially  thrown  together  for  a 
few  days,  having  never  met  before,  and  certain, 
when  once  scattered,  never  to  come  together  again 
in  this  life,  these  young  devotees  of  the  missionary 
cause  set  apart  each  afternoon  for  mutual  prayer 
and  Christian  fellowship.  An  upper  chamber  of 
the  Mission  House,  close  under  the  roof,  was  used 
for  this  purpose.  There  many  a  hymn  of  praise 
ascended — sweet  accepted  sacrifice — and  many 
an  earnest  prayer  was  poured  out  before  God  by 
these  young  servants  of  a  heavenly  Master  for 
those  richer  baptisms  of  the  Holy  Spirit  which 
should  fit  them  for  a  successful  discharge  of  the 
arduous  duties  to  which  their  youthful  energies 
had  been  consecrated.  These  were  seasons  of 
holy  intercourse  with  God ;  times  of  spiritual  re- 
freshing, to  be  gratefully  remembered  under  a 
tropic  sun,  or  in   the  frozen  regions  of  the  north, 


230        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  probably  not  to  be  forgotten  in  the  annals  of 
eternity. 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer  afternoon,  the  last  of 
the  week,  and  the  daily  prayer-meeting  was  going 
on.  Several  had  already  engaged  in  prayer.  All 
hearts  were  bowed  down  before  the  Lord,  for  a 
more  than  ordinary  unction  rested  upon  the  youth- 
ful band  that  Saturday  afternoon  as  first  one  and 
then  another  and  another  took  the  lead  in  ad- 
dressing the  throne  of  grace.  A  loud  knock- 
ing at  the  door  interrupted  what  was  going  on. 
One  of  the  young  men  stepped  to  the  door  and, 
opening  it,  received  the  message  that  had  been 
brought ;  and  when  the  verse  then  being  sung  was 
concluded,  announced  it  to  the  others  :  "  Messrs. 
Daniel  and  Snelgrove  are  required  to  go  on  board 
immediately,  as  their  vessel,  the  '  Hebe,'  is  now 
getting  under  way  and  will  at  once  drop  down 
the  river  and  put  to  sea."  The  meeting  was  bro- 
ken up,  and  the  two  young  missionaries,  after  a  lov- 
ing farewell  to  their  companions,  and  accompanied 
by  their  best  wishes  and  earnest  prayers,  departed 
to  join  the  ship  which  was  to  be  for  some  weeks 
their  home  upon  the  deep  and  convey  them  to 
the  scene  of  their  toil.  Little  did  they,  or  any  of 
those  who  were  left  behind,  anticipate  the  occur- 
rence that  was  to  consign  one  of  these  zealous 
young  servants  of  the  cross  to  a  watery  grave. 
Into  no  mind  did  the  thought  enter  that  one  of 
them  would  be  taken  within  the  vail  even  before 
his  eyes  should  rest  upon  the  foreign  coast  where 
he  fondly  hoped  that  years  of  self-denying  useful- 


The  Lost  Missionary.  231 

ness  awaited  him  in  the  service  of  that  honored 
Master  who,  in  the  morning  of  life,  had  called  him 
to  enjoy  the  blessedness  of  the  great  salvation,  and 
put  it  into  his  heart  to  devote  his  life  and  energies  to 
usefulness  in  the  great  mission  field. 

Gayly  sped  the  goodly  bark  down  the  Channel 
with  her  missionary  passengers  on  board,  all  sails 
spread  to  a  favoring  breeze.  It  was  hoped,  from 
the  favorable  commencement  of  the  voyage,  that 
the  "  Hebe  "  would  have  a  short  and  pleasant  pas- 
sage to  her  destination  in  the  New  World.  But 
changes  of  winds  occurred  as  they  ran  between  the 
French  and  English  coasts,  and  a  rough  sea  with 
head-winds  failed  not  to  exact  the  usual  penalty 
from  the  inexperienced  navigators  who  had  never 
before  known  the  effect  of  pitching  and  tossing  up- 
on the  rolling  waves.  The  trouble  was,  however, 
of  short  duration.  They  speedily  rallied  from  the 
prostration  occasioned  by  sea-sickness,  and  were 
able  to  gaze  with  interest  upon  the  towering  cliffs 
and  projecting  headlands  of  the  land  that  gave 
them  birth,  and  which,  although  they  were  volunta- 
rily leaving  it,  they  still  loved  so  well.  At  length  all 
the  difficulties  and  hinderances  of  the  Channel  nav- 
igation have  been  encountered  and  overcome,  and 
fondly  they  gaze  upon  the  fading  outlines  of  the 
land.  Their  hearts  are  heavy  as  memories  of  the 
past  crowd  upon  the  mind  ;  nor  is  it  a  reproach 
to  their  manhood  that  the  tear  falls  as  lingering 
looks  continue  to  be  directed  toward  the  now  all 
but  invisible  spot  where  they  have  so  recently 
parted  from  all  they  hold  dear  on  earth ! 


232         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

The  rough  waters  of  the  British  Channel  have 
prepared  the  young  missionaries  for  the  rougher 
greeting  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  whose  great  rolling 
billows  afford  them  opportunity  of  beholding  and 
adoring  the  majesty  and  power  of  the  Almighty 
One,  of  whom  it  is  declared,  "The  sea  is  his, 
and  he  made  it,  and  his  hands  prepared  the  dry 
land."  Alternate  breeze  and  calm,  fair  winds  and 
head  winds,  have  helped  or  impeded  their  prog- 
ress, calling  into  exercise  both  hope  and  patience 
during  several  weeks.  The  gambols  of  the  por- 
poise, the  spouting  of  the  monster  whale,  the 
changing  hues  of  the  dolphin,  languishing  and  dy- 
ing upon  the  deck,  with  the  treacherous  hook  in 
his  jaws,  have  all  served  to  relieve  the  monotony 
of  a  long  passage  by  sea,  and  all  are  fraught  with 
interest  to  those  who  have  hitherto  been  strangers 
to  the  wonders  of  the  deep. 

But  there  have  been  things  of  a  less  pleasant 
character  to  diversify  the  experience  of  the  mis- 
sionary voyagers.  The  captain  in  command  of 
the  vessel — a  near  relative  of  the  owners — is  a 
professor  of  religion,  but  not  a  man  of  genial 
temper  and  suavity  of  manners.  Habitually  rough 
and  repulsive  in  his  bearing,  it  has  not  served  to 
improve  his  temper  and  deportment  that  he  has 
embraced  the  sour,  narrow  creed  of  the  Antinomian. 
He  regards  with  scorn  and  disfavor  the  young  men 
committed  for  a  season  to  his  care  who  are  going 
to  a  distant  part  of  the  world  as  the  heralds  of  the 
Gospel,  because  theirs  is  a  message  which  pro- 
claims universal  redemption,  and  teaches, 


The  Lost  Missiofiary.  233 

"  He  hath  for  all  a  ransom  paid, 
For  all  a  full  atonement  made." 

Forgetting  the  courtesy  due  to  his  missionary 
guests,  he  frequently  indulges  his  sour,  unamiable 
disposition  by  scoffing  at  truths  which  they  hold 
most  dear  and  important,  and  forces  them  unwill- 
ingly into  controversial  discussions  they  would 
gladly  have  avoided.  This  goes  on  for  several 
weeks,  grievously  interfering  with  the  comfort  of 
the  young  men,  and  throwing  an  aspect  of  gloom 
over  what  might  otherwise  have  been  a  pleasant 
voyage. 

Now  they  approach  the  banks  of  Newfoundland, 
and  the  weather,  which  has  hitherto  been  com- 
paratively calm  and  pleasant,  becomes  rough  and 
stormy.  Fierce  gales  succeed  the  balmy  breezes 
that  have  wafted  them  on  their  course,  and  the 
vessel  is  tossed  and  tumbled  about  like  a  feather 
on  the  waves.  Day  after  day  the  fierce  sou'-wester 
stirs  up  the  depth  of  ocean,  until  the  vast  billows 
running  past  remind  the  beholder  of  the  expres 
sion  they  have  often  met  with — "  the  waves  run- 
ning mountains  high."  Driven  from  the  cabin  to 
escape  the  coarse  dogmatism  of  the  captain,  who 
persists  in  forcing  upon  them  discussions  with 
which  they  have  become  wearied  and  disgusted, 
the  younger  of  the  two  missionaries,  more  sensi- 
tive than  his  sedate  companion,  one  memorable 
afternoon  betakes  himself  after  dinner  to  the  quar- 
ter-deck, preferring  the  loud  roaring  of  the  winds 
and  the  raging  of  the  sea  to  angry  and  intolerant 
theological  disputations,  and  seeks  relief  to  his 


234         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

chafed  and  harassed  spirit  in  carving  the  words 
which  afterward  arrested  my  attention,  "  Hebe  non 
bonuin ;"  giving  expression  in  this  way  to  the  feel- 
ing of  discomfort  and  displeasure  which  for  the 
moment  oppressed  his  mind.  It  is  with  difficulty 
he  has  kept  his  feet  by  clinging  to  the  rail,  owing 
to  the  violent  rolling  of  the  ship.  When  the  self- 
imposed  task  is  completed,  returning  the  knife  to 
his  pocket,  he  gazes  moodily  for  a  few  moments 
upon  the  inscription,  and  then  takes  his  seat  upon 
the  hencoops  which  line  the  bulwarks  on  either 
side  of  the  quarter-deck,  containing  ducks  and 
poultry,  etc.,  destined  to  minister  to  the  comfort 
of  the  passengers.  Wave  after  wave  rolls  on,  now 
bearing  the  ship  high  upon  their  crest,  and  again 
almost  burying  her  out  of  sight  as  she  sinks  into 
the  trough  of  the  angry  sea. 

For  a  few  moments  the  young  missionary  sits 
gazing  upon  the  wide  waste  of  rushing  waters,  and 
listening  to  the  roar  of  the  gale  as  it  howls  through 
the  rigging  above  his  head,  himself  the  only  occu- 
pant of  the  quarter-deck  except  the  mate  in  charge 
of  the  vessel  and  the  man  at  the  wheel.  Perceiv- 
ing the  near  approach  of  a  wave  of  stupendous 
magnitude  that  is  rushing  toward  the  ship,  he  rises 
hastily  from  his  seat  to  go  below,  and  makes  a 
dash  at  the  companion  stair-head,  hoping  to  gain 
footing  and  shelter  there  before  the  threatening 
billows  should  break  against  the  vessel.  But  just 
as  he  rises  the  vessel  takes  a  violent  lurch,  sinking 
into  the  deep  trough  of  the  sea  until  her  bulwarks 
almost  touch  the  water.     She  rests  for  a  moment 


The  Lost  Missionary.  235 

on  her  beam  ends,  her  deck  being  almost  perpen- 
dicular with  the  raging  tide.  Pitched  violently 
forward  by  the  sudden  motion  of  the  ship,  he 
misses  his  aim,  shoots  past  the  companion  place, 
and  in  a  moment  plunges  head  foremost  into  the 
raging  element. 

"  Man  overboard !"  is  the  appalling  cry  that  rings 
through  the  ship,  and  all  hands  immediately  rush 
on  deck.  Hencoops  are  cut  loose,  and  with  the 
chairs  scattered  about  are  thrown  overboard  for 
the  drowning  man  to  grasp  should  he  rise  to  the 
surface,  and  all  on  board  rush  aft  to  afford  all  the 
help  that  may  be  in  their  power. 

But  no  help  is  of  any  avail.  No  boat  could  live 
two  minutes  in  those  troubled  waters.  If  the  lost 
one  ever  came  to  the  surface  of  that  troubled  rag- 
ing sea  no  human  eye  caught  a  glimpse  of  him. 
Only  his  hat  can  be  seen  floating  near  the  spot 
where  he  has  been  engulfed.  He  has  passed 
away  far  beyond  mortal  ken,  and  in  the  full  vigor 
of  young  and  lusty  life  has  sunk  into  an  ocean 
grave.  He  has  left  his  companion  to  go  alone  to 
that  which  had  been  marked  out  as  the  scene  of 
their  united  toil,  and  a  large  circle  of  loving 
friends  to  mourn  over  the  unexpected  intelligence 
of  the  loss  they  have  sustained  in  his  early  re- 
moval to  the  land  of  the  blessed.  Dark  and  in- 
scrutable are  the  ways  of  God.  We  cannot  now 
understand  why  the  Great  and  Holy  One  should 
thus  snatch  away  the  young  missionary  to  his  rest 
before  he  could  enter  upon  his  work.  But  he 
doeth  all  things  wisely  and  well.     By  and  by  we 


236         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

shall  see  clearly,  as  we  cannot  see  now,  that  this 
painful  dispensation  of  Providence  that  deprived 
the  Church  of  a  valuable  missionary  agent,  and 
sent  sorrow  and  anguish  to  many  hearts,  was  ruled 
by  unerring  wisdom  and  infinite  love. 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 

His  wonders  to  perform  ; 
He  plants  his  footsteps  in  the  sea, 

And  rides  upon  the  storm." 


Yellow-Fever  Victims.  237 


XII. 

Yellow-Fever  Victims. 

They  who  die  in  Christ  are  blest; 

Ours  be,  then,  no  thought  of  grieving  I 
Sweetly  with  their  God  they  rest. 

All  their  toils  and  troubles  leaving. 
80  be  ours  the  faith  that  saveth, 
Hope  that  every  trial  braveth, 
Love  that  to  the  end  endureth. 
And,  through  Christ,  the  crown  eecureth ! 

Bishop  DoAmj. 

FTER  a  voyage  of  more  than  sixty  days 
from  the  Thames,  the  good  ship  "  Atlan- 
tic "  reaches  her  destination,  bearing  three 
young  men,  and  the  wife  of  one  of  them,  to  the 
scene  of  their  allotted  toil  in  the  slave-land  of 
Jamaica. 

Having  dropped  her  anchor  for  a  few  hours 
during  the  night  at  Port  Royal,  she  has  taken  ad- 
vantage of  the  land-breeze  to  make  her  way 
through  the  narrow,  circuitous  channel  to  Kings- 
ton, and  while  the  morning  is  yet  young,  takes  up 
the  berth  assigned  to  her  by  the  imperative  official 
styled  the  harbor-master.  A  shore  boat  shortly 
receives  the  passengers,  with  the  few  articles  of 
baggage  they  are  able  to  take  on  shore  with  them, 
and  in  a  few  moments  they  find  themselves  on  the 
wharf.  How  new  and  strange  is  the  scene ! 
They  are   surrounded   by  piles   of  lumber,  with 


238        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

numerous  hogsheads  of  sugar  and  puncheons  of 
rum,  that  half-naked  negro  slaves  are  rolling  to- 
ward a  ship  lying  close  to  the  wharf.  The  crew 
are  busily  occupied  in  hoisting  them  on  board  to 
the  tune  of  some  favorite  nautical  melody,  which 
serves  to  animate  and  lighten  their  toil.  Thread- 
ing their  way  with  care  over  small  pools  of  mo- 
lasses that  have  drained  from  the  sugar  casks, 
they  soon  emerge  into  a  narrow  street,  where  a 
decent-looking  colored  woman,  hearing  their  in- 
quiries for  the  Methodist  mission  house,  and  justly 
concluding  from  their  appearance  that  it  is  a  band 
of  new  missionaries  who  have  arrived,  steps  for- 
ward, and  with  respectful  courtesy  and  smiling 
face,  volunteers  her  services  to  conduct  them  to 
the  place  they  wish  to  find. 

The  streets  are  heavy  with  sand,  and  the  full 
tide  of  tropical  heat  pours  down  upon  them  as 
they  slowly  follow  their  guide,  who  has  pressed 
two  or  three  of  her  sable  acquaintances  into  the 
service,  making  them  take  charge  of  the  packages 
which  the  voyagers  have  brought  ashore  with 
them.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they  find  them- 
selves in  a  fine  square  of  considerable  extent. 
On  the  eastern  side  a  large  house,  with  green  ja- 
lousies stretching  across  the  entire  front,  is  pointed 
out  to  them  as  the  chapel.  The  woman  turns 
round  as  she  directs  their  attention  to  it,  and 
exhibiting  in  her  pleasure  a  set  of  glittering 
ivory  teeth,  informs  them,  "  Me  member  of  the 
Society,  too,  massa.  Me  hope  minister  and 
missis  hab    one   pleasant  voyage.      Me   glad  for 


Yellow-Fever  Victims.  239 

true  to  see  minister  come  for  teach  we  de  way 
to  hebben." 

Ascending  some  steps  through  a  broad  gate- 
way, they  pass  between  two  wide  staircases,  which 
they  are  informed  lead  up  into  the  chapel,  and 
enter  the  mission  house  on  the  ground  floor. 
They  are  warmly  greeted  by  the  occupants  of  the 
dwelling,  even  before  they  can  present  the  letters 
of  which  they  are  the  bearers  from  the  connec- 
tional  authorities  under  whose  auspices  they  have 
left  their  homes  to  enter  upon  a  field  of  useful- 
ness in  a  far  distant  foreign  land.  Very  speedily 
a  multitude  of  visitors  are  flocking  around  to  wel- 
come them,  for  the  news  has  rapidly  spread  far 
and  wide  in  the  city  that  some  new  missionaries 
have  arrived  from  England.  Many  a  warm  shake 
of  the  hand  and  many  a  tear-bedewed  cheek  beai 
witness  to  the  heartfelt  joy  with  which  their  pres- 
ence is  hailed.  It  is  with  very  strange  and  min- 
gled emotions  that  the  young  missionaries  and  the 
fair  youthful  companion  of  their  voyage  regard  the 
dusky  faces  which,  full  of  animation,  and  radiant 
with  pleasure,  surround  them  on  every  side. 

These  visitors  are  the  free  people,  who  thus 
hasten  on  wings  of  love  to  welcome  the  mission- 
aries among  them,  their  time  being  at  their  own 
disposal.  By  and  by  one  and  another,  with  timid, 
faltering  steps,  present  themselves  at  the  door  to 
look  in  upon  "  the  new  ministers  and  the  lady." 
These  they  learn  are  children  of  bondage,  slaves 
belonging  to  families  in  the  city,  who,  sent  upon 
some  errand,  have  ventured  to  step  a  little  out  of 


240         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  way  "just  to  look  at  massa  minister."  Some 
of  them  have  to  bear  no  small  amount  of  ill  usage 
at  the  hands  of  unfeeling  owners,  who  seek  to  cure 
their  love  of  prayer,  and  drive  religion  out  of  them, 
by  the  free  use  of  the  "cat." 

The  new  comers  are  not  long  in  learning  that  it 
is  no  easy  service  to  which  they  are  devoted,  and 
that  they  have  come  to  a  land  where  bigotry  and 
persecution  are  rampant.  The  several  attempts 
which  have  been  made  by  the  Legislature  of  the 
colony  to  hinder,  by  statute,  the  benevolent  efforts 
of  missionaries  to  enlighten  and  elevate  the  down- 
trodden children  of  Africa  by  the  benign  influences 
of  the  Gospel,  have  been  baffled  by  a  timely  appeal 
to  the  justice  and  tolerant  feelings  of  the  sovereign* 
But  the  municipal  authorities  of  the  city,  whose 
charter  exempts  them  from  the  immediate  control 
of  the  crown,  and  gives  them  power  to  make  or- 
dinances for  the  government  of  the  city,  have  been 
stirred  up  to  abuse  that  power  for  evil  purposes. 
A  city  ordinance  now  exists  that  prevents  any  re- 
ligious service  being  held  in  the  city  before  sunrise 
or  after  sunset  under  heavy  penalties.  This  intol- 
erant law  has  the  designed  effect  of  almost  entirely 
cutting  off  the  slaves  in  the  city  from  the  oppor- 
tunity of  worship  or  instruction.  Spies  are  ever 
on  the  watch  to  observe  and  bring  to  the  notice  of 
the  authorities  any  infringement  of  this  oppressive 
enactment. 

No  disposition  is  cherished  by  the  missionaries 
to  oppose  the  authority  so  wantonly  exercised, 
however  they  may  groan  under  the  oppression  to 


Yellow-Fever  Victims.  241 

which  they  and  their  people  are  subjected,  and 
they  submit,  commending  their  cause  to  God,  and 
hoping  for  better  days.  The  arrival  of  the  new 
missionaries  is  hailed  by  hundreds  with  satisfac- 
tion and  joy,  heightened  by  the  discovery  that 
both  the  lady  and  her  husband  have  excellent 
voices,  well  trained  in  the  sweet  melodies  of  those 
glorious  Wesley  hymns,  whose  lofty,  glowing  strains 
have  cheered  and  animated  thousands  in  the  sor- 
rows of  life  and  the  vale  of  death,  and  helped  to 
plume  the  wings  of  many  a  departing  spirit  in  its 
last  triumphant  flight  to  the  paradise  of  God. 

The  little  mission  party  assembled  in  the  after- 
noon in  the  ordinary  sitting-room,  have  sung  to- 
gether many  a  familiar  tune,  to  which  the  new 
harmonious  voices  lent  an  additional  charm  ;  and 
many  a  new  strain,  adapted  to  bring  forth  with 
greater  sweetness  and  power  the  true  poetry  of 
those  beautiful  hymns,  has  helped  to  beguile  the 
hours  and  produce  forgetfulness  of  all  earthly  sor- 
row and  care. 

As  the  thrilling  melody  ascends — 

"  To  patient  faith  the  prize  is  sure  ; 
And  all  that  to  the  end  endure 

The  cross,  shall  wear  the  crown  " — 

the  enjoyment  of  the  party  is  rudely  disturbed  by 
the  abrupt  entrance  of  several  officials  of  the 
law,  including  one  of  the  city  magistrates,  who, 
directing  their  attention  to  the  fact  that  a  few 
minutes  have  passed  beyond  the  hour  when  the 
law  allows  a  religious  service  to  be  held,  proceed 


242         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

at  once  to  take  Messrs.  G.  and  K.,  the  resident 
missionaries,  into  custody,  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
ducting them  to  a  place  of  confinement.  It  is  in 
vain  that  they  and  others  of  the  party  point  out 
that  they  were  not  holding  any  religious  service 
within  the  meaning  of  the  law,  but  merely  amus- 
ing themselves,  as  a  social  party,  in  singing  a  few 
hymns.  The  astute  official,  in  common  with  his 
sapient  magisterial  brethren,  can  discern  no  dif- 
ference. "  Singing  hymns  is  preaching  "  in  their 
estimation,  and  "  praying  is  also  preaching ;  "  and, 
despite  all  remonstrance,  the  two  missionaries  are 
taken  away,  to  find  such  rest  as  they  may  in  the 
dark,  comfortless  dungeon  dignified  with  the  name 
of  the  "  City  Cage."  On  the  following  day  the 
younger  of  the  two  is  set  at  liberty  by  the  magis- 
trates, while  the  elder,  as  the  master  of  the  house 
where  the  crime  had  been  committed,  is  held 
guilty  of  holding  a  religious  service  after  the  hours 
prescribed  by  the  law,  and  is  sentenced  to  a  month's 
confinement  in  the  common  jail,  his  wife  permitted, 
as  an  act  of  grace,  to  share  the  imprisonment  of  her 
husband. 

The  next  day  is  the  Sabbath,  when  Mr.  F.,  one 
of  the  newly-arrived  missionaries,  the  married 
man  of  the  party,  opens  his  commission  in  the  new 
scene  of  his  labors,  another  of  the  party  occupying 
the  pulpit  in  the  afternoon.  But  the  joy  of  all  is 
damped  by  thoughts  of  the  faithful  pastor  who  is 
spending  the  sacred  hours  of  the  Sabbath  within 
the  walls  of  a  prison,  and  many  prayers,  "  uttered 
and  unexpressed,"  go  up  to  heaven   on  behalf  of 


Yellow-Fever   Victims.  243 

the  iiuffering  servant  of  the  Lord  and  his  faithful 
spouse,  who  has  voluntarily  immured  herself  in  a 
gloomy  cell  that  she  may  share  and  lighten  her 
husband's  privations.  Far  deeper  grief  would  set- 
tle upon  that  congregation  of  earnest  worshipers 
could  they  foresee  the  heavier  calamity  that  is  im- 
pending over  them ;  and  that,  before  another  Sab- 
bath shall  summon  them  again  to  the  sanctuary 
of  Jehovah,  one  of  those  voices  to  which  they  have 
listened  with  rapt  attention,  proclaiming  with  soul- 
stirring  eloquence  the  sublime  truths  of  the  Gos- 
pel, will  be  hushed  in  the  silence  of  the  grave. 
None  dream  of  the  sorrow  so  close  at  hand.  Into 
no  mind  does  the  thought  enter  that  the  sweet, 
thrilling  strains  of  the  youthful  pair,  which  could 
charm  the  persecuted  ministers  of  the  cross  into 
forgetfulness  of  persecutors  and  persecuting  laws, 
will,  in  a  few  brief  hours  only,  be  heard  mingling 
with  the  songs  of  angels  and  the  choir  above. 
Yet  so  it  is  to  be.  Loving  and  kind  is  the  wisdom 
of  God  that  hides  the  future  from  our  vision,  and 
saves  us  from  the  untold  anguish  that  would  accrue 
to  multitudes  from  knowing  the  things  which  are 
to  come. 

The  Sabbath  passes,  a  day  of  hallowed  delights 
in  the  service  of  the  sanctuary  ;  a  day  which,  be- 
cause of  the  associations  linked  therewith,  is  to 
have  a  pre-eminent  and  permanent  place  in  the 
memories  of  not .  a  few.  It  is  the  day  after  the 
Sabbath,  and  the  third  day  after  the  arrival  of  the 
missionary  party,  when  the  young  wife  complains 

of  feeling  more  than  she  has  done  before  the  re- 
16 


244         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

laxing  influence  of  the  tropical  climate.  A  severe 
frontal  headache,  and  pains  in  the  back  and  limbs, 
soon  begin  to  indicate  to  those  who  are  experi- 
enced in  tropical  diseases  incident  to  the  climate 
that  it  is  the  insidious  approach  of  the  fever,  so 
fatal  within  and  near  the  tropics,  that  has  to  be 
resisted.  When  this  truth  is  apprehended  prompt 
medical  treatment  is  resorted  to,  and  skillful 
nurses  with  loving  hearts  and  willing  hands  are 
present  to  minister  with  the  tenderest  care  to  all 
the  wants  of  the  patient,  and  do  every  thing  that 
human  power  can  accomplish  to  alleviate  pain, 
and  arrest  the  formidable  malady.  The  few 
hours  that  have  elapsed  have  made  it  manifest 
beyond  all  doubt  that  it  is  the  worst  type  of  the 
country  fever — the  vomito prieto,  or  yellow  fever — 
that  is  seizing  in  its  deadly  grasp  all  the  powers, 
and  assailing  the  life  of  the  young  and  lovely 
wife. 

Deep  anguish  lays  hold  on  the  spirit  of  the 
anxious  husband  as  the  conviction  is  realized 
that  the  loved  one,  who  has  so  recently  linked 
her  destiny  with  his  own,  and  given  up  home  and 
friends  and  many  a  comfort  and  enjoyment  to 
share  his  arduous  toil  in  the  mission  field — the 
wife  of  whose  lovable  qualities  and  blooming 
loveliness  he  has  been  so  proud — is  actually  under 
the  power  of  that  deadly  fever  of  whose  terrible 
ravages  he  has  heard  and  read  so  much.  He  en- 
deavors to  bear  up  with  manly  fortitude  under  the 
trying  visitation,  and  calls  upon  the  Giver  of  all 
grace    to   aid   him.     But    his   heart   sinks   as   he 


The  Midshipmen^ s  Frolic.  257 

ing  brief  intervals  which  he  chose  to  spend  at 
home,  he  indulged  in  the  same  riotous  orgies  that 
usually  marked  his  periodical  visits  to  the  estates 
of  his  employers. 

It  was  during  the  Christmas  holidays  of  1828 
that  he  detected  one  of  his  female  slaves — a  fair  col- 
ored girl  named  Damsel — helping  herself  to  a  glass 
of  rum  from  a  decanter  on  his  well-replenished  side- 
board.- As  he  was  a  man  of  fierce  and  vindictive 
passions,  ripened  to  fearful  maturity  by  the  corrupt- 
ing and  brutalizing  influences  to  which  he  had  been 
exposed  while  passing  through  the  various  grades 
of  slave-driving  life,  the  girl  trembled  when  she  be- 
held her  master's  eye  resting  upon  her.  Though 
claiming  the  rank  and  character  of  a  gentleman, 
he  could  be  guilty  of  revolting  cruelty  toward  the 
unfortunates  bearing  the  form  and  possessing  the 
noble  attributes  of  humanity,  yet  systematically 
plundered  of  all  human  rights,  because  it  was 
their  misfortune  to  inherit  from  their  Creator  a 
darker  complexion  than  their  neighbors. 

Excited  by  drink  beyond  all  self-control,  this 
white  gentleman,  who  would  show  such  complai- 
sance and  politeness  to  the  gentle  sex  of*  his  own 
color,  whenever  he  was  thrown  into  their  society,  as 
to  render  it  difficult  to  believe  that  he  could  ever, 
under  any  circumstances,  be  guilty  of  cowardly 
violence  to  a  woman,  laid  brutal  hands  upon  the 
offending  Damsel.  Having  with  heavy  fist  in- 
flicted severe  punishment  upon  her  head  and 
face,  he  rent  off,  with  the  fury  of  a  madman,  every 
fragment  of  clothing  that  covered  the  person  of 


258         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  unfortunate  girl,  who  was  of  an  age  to  feel 
this  outrage  upon  her  modesty  even  more  than  she 
felt  the  painful  bruises  his  cowardly  hands  had  in- 
flicted upon  her  person.  Not  satisfied  with  this, 
the  drunken  tyrant  had  her  taken,  just  as  she  was, 
into  the  yard,  and  summoning  the  driver  to  his 
aid  he  caused  her  to  be  laid  flat  upon  her  face, 
and  stood  by  while  that  terrible  functionary 
stripped  skin  and  flesh  from  the  shoulders  down- 
ward by  a  flogging  such  as  only  the  muscular, 
well-practiced  arm  of  a  brawny  slave-driver  was 
capable  of  inflicting.  He  then  ordered  that  she 
should  be  taken,  faint  and  bleeding,  and  perfectly 
naked  as  she  was,  to  the  guard-house.  And 
thither  she  was  speedily  conveyed  more  dead 
than  alive. 

In  those  times  it  was  the  custom  to  "  keep 
guard  "  at  Christmas.  Three  days  were  by  law  then 
given  to  the  slaves  as  holidays.  By  slaves  under 
the  influences  of  the  religion  taught  by  the  mis- 
sionaries, these  three  holidays  were  spent  in  re- 
ligious exercises  and  interchange  of  friendly  visits. 
By  the  rest  of  the  slaves  they  were  devoted  to 
revelry  ajjd  John-Canoe  processions,  and  music, 
and  dancing,  and  feasting.  Some  of  the  white 
people  occasionally  lavished  considerable  sums 
upon  the  sets  of  "  Blues  "  and  "  Reds,"  who  strove 
to  outvie  each  other  in  the  gayety  and  splendor  of 
their  adornings.  During  these  Christmas  revels 
the  several  regiments  of  militia,  all  over  the  island, 
were  wholly  or  partially  embodied  and  armed,  for 
the  purpose  of  "  keeping  guard  "  and  suppressing 


The  Midshipmen'' s  Frolie.  259 

any  outbreak  among  the  slave  population.     The 
whites  lived  in  a  state  of  chronic  alarm. 

Not  far  distant  from  the  residence  of  Mr.  D. 
was  the  guard-house,  and  a  party  of  the  St.  Eliza- 
beth militia  were  assembled  there  on  duty. 
Thither  Damsel  was  conveyed  with  her  bleeding 
wounds  thick  upon  her,  but  without  a  particle  of 
clothing,  and  thrust  into  a  cell.  Had  he  not  been 
infuriated  and  blinded  by  drink,  and  altogether 
incapable  of  serious  reflection,  Mr.  D.  would  no 
doubt  have  hesitated  about  sending  the  sufferer  to 
the  guard-house,  and  thus  exposing  the  cruelty 
with  which  he  treated  his  unfortunate  slave  to  the 
officers  and  men  assembled  there  from  many  of 
the  plantations  around.  But  it  had  become  well 
known  that  he  was  accustomed  to  behave  like  a 
madman  in  those  fits  of  intemperance  in  which  he 
very  frequently  indulged. 

Among  the  officers  on  duty  there  happened  to 
be  some  members  of  the  most  respectable  Creole 
families  residing  in  that  part  of  the  country ;  men 
who,  while  they  treated  their  own  slaves  with  hu- 
manity, and  some  even  with  tenderness,  regarded 
with  abhorrence  the  atrocities  too  often  practiced 
by  the  hireling  upstarts  who  succeeded  in  obtaining 
authority  over  the  suffering  children  of  Africa  held 
in  bondage  on  the  estates.  Several  of  these  gen- 
tlemen were  shocked  by  the  outrage  upon  the  poor 
girl,  whom  they  saw  brought  among  them  without 
a  rag  of  clothing  upon  her,  and  her  person  cruelly 
lacerated  and  bleeding,  and  they  united  to  afford 
protection  and  redress  to  the  injured  one. 
17 


26o  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Among  those  ameliorations  of  slavery  in  the 
colonies  that  British  philanthropy  had  wrung  from 
the  reluctant,  powerful  West  India  interest,  was  a 
provision  for  the  appointment  of  a  council  of  pro- 
tection, to  investigate  cases  of  alleged  maltreatment 
of  slaves  and  afford  redress  to  the  injured.  This 
"  council  of  protection,"  so  called,  was  invested 
with  power  to  direct  the  prosecution  of  offenders, 
and  to  compensate  cruelly  treated  slaves  by  giv- 
ing them  their  freedom.  Through  the  interposi- 
tion of  the  above  mentioned  gentlemen,  who  rep- 
resented this  instance  of  cruel  oppression  to  the 
proper  authorities,  a  council  of  protection  was  or- 
dered to  investigate  the  case  of  Damsel. 

Unhappily,  as  was  almost  always  the  case  with 
these  tribunals,  it  was  composed  entirely  of  men 
whose  sympathies  strongly  favored  the  oppressor, 
and  whose  interests  were  bound  up  in  slavery,  and 
in  maintaining  the  right  which  slaveholders  and 
planters  claimed  of  doing  whatever  they  thought 
proper  to  maintain  their  authority  over  their 
slaves.  The  result  was  that  councils  of  protection, 
in  almost  every  instance  in  which  they  were 
held,  amounted  only  to  a  farce  and  a  mockery, 
and  presented  a  very  feeble  check  indeed  to  those 
cruelties  in  which  many  overseers  and  owners  of 
slaves  were  prone  to  indulge.  The  most  revolting 
acts  of  oppression  were  uniformly  declared  by 
these  tribunals,  in  the  face  of  the  clearest  evidence 
to  the  contrary,  to  be  too  trifling  to  require  the 
adoption  of  any  proceedings  to  punish  the  offender, 
The  chief  purpose  they  served,  and  which   they 


The  MidsJiipmen  's  Frolic.  26 1 

t\^ere  intended  by  the  colonial  lawmakers  to  pro- 
mote, was  to  cast  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  British 
public  by  a  deceitful  show  of  legal  protection  to  the 
slaves,  while  securing  immunity  to  evil  doers. 

This  was  the  issue  in  the  case  of  the  girl  Damsel. 
A  council  of  protection  was  called  to  investigate 
the  complaint  of  cruel  treatment  which,  under  the 
advice  and  by  the  help  of  the  gentlemen  who  had 
taken  the  matter  in  hand,  she  made  against  her 
owner,  Mr.  D.  Notwithstanding  the  girl's  state- 
ment of  the  brutal  treatment  she  had  experienced 
at  the  hands  of  her  master,  and  the  evidence  of 
the  officers  and  men,  who  had  seen  her  brought 
naked,  and  covered  with  wounds  and  blood,  to  the 
guard-house,  the  complaint  was  dismissed  by  the 
planters  composing  the  court  of  protection,  and 
Mr.  D.  was  declared  to  have  done  nothing  more 
than  he  had  a  legal  right  to  do  with  his  slaves. 

Poor  Damsel  was  handed  over  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  her  owner,  who,  though  not  habitually 
cruel  to  his  slaves  when  he  was  sober,  was  capable, 
in  his  cups,  of  almost  any  atrocity.  This  decision 
did  not,  however,  satisfy  those  who  had  constituted 
themselves  the  protectors  of  the  injured  girl. 
They  forwarded  the  particulars  of  the  case  to  the 
governor  ;  and,  as  he  happened  to  be  one  so  much 
under  planter  influence,  and  possessing  so  little 
strength  of  character,  that  nothing  satisfactory 
could  be  looked  for  from  him,  they  also  reported 
the  whole  matter  to  the  Colonial  Office  in  Lon- 
don. The  partiality  and  injustice  of  the  council 
of  protection  were  so  palpable  from  the  evidence 


262        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

that  had  been  taken,  that  immediate  instructions 
were  given  by  the  secretary  for  the  colonies  for 
the  attorney-general  of  Jamaica  to  initiate  a  pros- 
ecution of  the  offender.  This  was  done.  The 
attorney-general  did  not  happen  to  be  a  personal 
friend  of  the  criminal,  and  was,  moreover,  an 
honest  man.  He  performed  the  duty  laid  upon 
him  with  sincerity  and  zeal.  An  upright  Christian 
judge — Sir  William  Scarlett  — was  on  the  bench, 
who  was  alive  to  the  responsibility  of  his  position. 
A  jury  was  found  to  give  a  right  and  conscientious 
verdict — a  very  uncommon  thing  in  Jamaica  in 
those  days — and  Mr.  D.  stood  convicted  as  a  vio- 
lator of  the  law  in  the  inhuman  treatment  to  which 
he  had  subjected  his  helpless  slave.  Severely  rep- 
robating his  conduct  as  unmanly  and  brutal,  and 
disgraceful  to  himself  and  to  the  country,  the 
court  sentenced  him  to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty  pounds, 
and  also  to  lose  his  property  in  the  bones  and 
sinews  of  poor  Damsel,  who  obtained  her  freedom 
as  a  compensation  for  the  wrongs  and  cruelties 
she  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  her  owner. 

At  the  end  of  1831  there  broke  out  the  formi- 
dable insurrection  among  the  slaves  in  the  north- 
western parishes  of  the  island  that  gave  the  death- 
blow to  British  colonial  slavery,  and  led  immedi- 
ately to  its  abolition. 

All  the  available  military  force  of  the  island  was 
called  out  to  quell  the  insurgents,  and  while  the 
troops  were  thus  occupied  on  the  land,  at  all  the 
principal  ports  round  the  west  end  of  the  island 
there  were   stationed   ships  of  war,  whose   crews 


The  Midshipmen's  Frolic.  263 

were  employed  wherever  their  services  could  be 
made  available  to  support  the  movements  of  the 
soldiers.  The  ofificers  of  these  ships  were  often 
entertained  and  feted  by  the  wealthy  merchants 
in  the  towns,  or  by  the  planters  whose  dwellings 
lay  contiguous  to  the  several  ports.  After  the 
insurrection  had  been  subdued  these  ships  of  war 
remained  for  some  months  at  their  respective  sta- 
tions until  perfect  tranquillity  was  restored,  to 
guard  against  any  further  insurrectionary  move- 
ments on  the  part  of  the  negroes.  During  this 
time  the  ofificers  made  acquaintance  with  the  fam- 
ilies living  within  a  circuit  of  some  miles,  spending 
their  time  very  pleasantly,  and  enjoying  the  un- 
bounded hospitality  for  which  Jamaica  had  long 
been  famous. 

Among  those  who  courted  the  society  of  the 
blue-jacket  ofificers  was  Mr.  D.,  the  gentleman 
already  spoken  of.  He  frequently  invited  parties 
of  them  from  the  ship  lying  at  Black  River,  as 
they  were  able  to  leave  the  vessel,  to  visit  him  at 
his  stately  and  well-furnished  mansion,  situated  a 
few  miles  inland,  where  they  were  sumptuously 
entertained,  and  where  they  found  much  amuse- 
ment, varied  occasionally  with  a  little  annoyance 
in  the  strange  vagaries  of  their  host  when  he  be- 
came too  drunk  to  distinguish  between  his  guests 
and  his  slaves.  On  these  occasions  he  would  do 
many  absurd  things  that  suggested  themselves  to 
his  muddled  brain,  and  fall  into  many  laughable 
mistakes,  ordering  both  guests  and  slaves  about 
with    admirable    impartiality.       Occasionally    he 


264         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

would  send  the  officers  back  to  their  ship  in  a 
condition,  with  regard  to  sobriety,  not  very  much 
better  than  his  own. 

Parties  of  midshipmen  were  allowed  occasion- 
ally to  enjoy  Mr.  D.'s  hospitality,  but  under  posi- 
tive restrictions,  on  the  part  of  the  captain,  as  to 
the  quantity  of  wine  they  were  to  indulge  in,  any 
violation  of  which  they  well  knew  would  put  an 
end  to  their  pleasant  visits  and  excursions  ashore. 
These  mischief-loving  youths,  never  loath  to  par- 
take of  the  luxuries  of  the  wealthy  planter's  table, 
greatly  enjoyed  the  fun  which  the  drunken  freaks 
of  their  host  afforded  them.  While  they  were 
careful  to  keep  themselves  within  the  prescribed 
limits,  they  encouraged  him  to  drink,  helping  him, 
after  their  own  wild  fashion,  with  mixed  potions, 
and  substituting  gin  or  whisky  for  water  until  he 
became  helpless  in  their  hands,  and  would  indulge 
in  brutal  or  lordly  pranks  as  the  humor  of  the  mo- 
ment predominated. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  four  or  five  fun-lov- 
ing middies  formed  the  party  which  the  planter 
major-general  carried  off  with  him  in  his  carriage 
from  "  the  Bay  "  to  dine  at  his  house,  and  return 
on  board  in  the  evening.  As  the  ship  was  soon  to 
leave  the  station,  they  resolved  to  make  the  most 
of  the  day  in  frolic  and  mischief.  Arrived  at  their 
destination,  some  seven  or  eight  miles  inland,  they 
gave  themselves  up  to  amusement  in  all  sorts  of 
wild  escapades,  to  the  great  delight  of  their  host, 
who  entered  into  the  fun  as  heartily  as  themselves. 
At  length  the  well-furnished  dinner  table  invited 


T]ie  Midshipine7i' s  Frolic.  265 

their  attention,  and  they  did  such  justice  to  the 
luxurious  viands  spread  before  them  as  hungry 
denizens  of  the  cock-pit  know  well  how  to  do. 
Having  satisfied  the  demands  of  appetite,  the 
youngsters  gave  themselves  up  to  the  task  of 
helping  their  willing  entertainer  into  a  state  of 
complete  intoxication,  and  extracting  from  him 
all  the  fun  which  experience  had  taught  them  he 
was  in  that  condition  likely  to  afford. 

It  happened  on  this  occasion  that  he  was  dis- 
posed to  be  very  lordly  in  his  drunkenness,  and 
to  forget  all  distinction  between  the  frolicsome 
middies  and  the  half-naked  young  negroes  that 
waited  about  the  house  and  stables  to  serve  the 
pleasure  of  the  great  man.  Having  drunk  himself 
into  a  state  of  utter  helplessness  and  partial  blind- 
ness, he  fancied  himself  in  his  bedroom,  and  with 
not  a  few  oaths  and  curses,  addressed  to  his  youth- 
ful guests,  whom  he  confounded  with  his  negro- 
boy  attendants,  called  upon  them  to  render  their 
services  to  help  him  in  preparing  for  bed.  "  Here, 
you  imp,"  he  says  to  one  of  them,  "come  and  take 
off  this  boot."  "  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  ready  reply, 
and  entering  fully  into  the  fun  of  the  thing,  the 
youngster  addressed  himself  to  the  task  assigned 
to  him.  But  he  found  it  to  be,  either  from  want 
of  tact  or  strength,  a  somewhat  difficult  undertak- 
ing. The  boot  wouldn't  come  off.  Irritated  by 
the  failure  of  the  attempt,  the  drunken  man 
snatched  a  glass  from  the  table  and  hurled  it  at 
the  head  of  his  assistant,  who  cleverly  avoided  the 
missile  by  dodging,  and   then,  with   a  volley  of 


266         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

fierce  oaths,  he  summoned  him  to  a  renewal  of  the 
task.  "  Yes,  sir,  certainly,"  responded  the  grin- 
ning middy,  and,  taking  a  knife  from  his  pocket, 
he  dexterously  slit  up  the  leg  of  the  boot  and  cast 
it  off.  Lifting  the  other  foot,  the  lordly  drunkard, 
with  a  curse,  commanded  the  youth,  "  Take  that 
off  too."  The  boot  was  readily  set  free  in  the 
same  way  as  its  fellow  had  been.  "You,  sir,"  ad- 
dressing another  of  the  young  officers,  and  letting 
fly  another  curse,  "  come  here  and  help  me  off 
with  this  coat."  "Yes,  sir,  certainly,"  he  replies, 
and,  borrowing  the  penknife  from  his  companion, 
he  speedily  disencumbers  the  drunken  man  of  his 
coat,  slitting  it  up  as  the  other  youngster  had  done 
with  the  boots.  Obeying  the  imperative  mandates 
of  the  host,  the  uproarious  youngsters  shortly  di- 
vest him,  with  the  help  of  the  knife,  of  all  his  gar- 
ments excepting  his  shirt. 

By  this  time  the  evening  is  far  spent,  and  the 
carriage,  which  has  been  previously  ordered  to 
take  the  guests  back  to  the  Bay,  is  brought  to  the 
door,  and  the  youth  who  is  to  be  the  coachman 
appears  in  the  room  to  let  them  know  that  all  is 
ready  for  their  return.  The  inebriate,  who  sits 
grinning  in  his  easy-chair  in  a  state  of  maudlin 
helplessness,  has  just  sense  enough  left  to  com- 
prehend the  import  of  this  announcement.  He 
has  forgotten  all  about  going  to  bed,  concerning 
which  he  was  so  much  in  earnest  a  short  while 
ago,  and  he  takes  it  into  his  muddled  head  that 
he  will  go  with  them  in  the  carriage.  It  is  in  vain 
that  the  middies  and  the  domestics  endeavor  to 


The  Midshipmen's  Frolic.  267 

reason  with  him,  and  prevail  upon  him  to  remain 
at  home  and  go  to  bed.  Rendered  furious  by  any 
thing  like  resistance  to  his  imperious  will,  he 
storms  and  curses  all  about  him,  and  bearing 
down  all  opposition,  insists  upon  getting  into  the 
carriage  just  as  he  is,  throwing  away  every  article 
that  is  handed  to  him  for  covering  except  his 
military  cocked  hat,  for  which,  as  the  mark  that 
distinguishes  his  high  military  rank,  he  seems  to 
cherish  a  fond  affection. 

As  time  is  pressing,  and  they  must  be  on  board 
at  the  appointed  hour,  which  is  now  not  far  off, 
the  middies  cease  from  the  vain  effort  to  turn 
their  host  from  his  purpose,  and  scramble  into  the 
carriage;  secretly  delighted,  no  doubt,  that  the 
drunken  obstinacy  of  the  man  has  given  such  an 
unexpected  turn  to  their  frolic.  They  have  not 
failed  to  light  their  cigars  before  taking  their  de- 
parture, and  as  they  drive  along,  the  helpless  im- 
becile, rolling  first  to  one  side,  then  to  the  other, 
swings  himself  in  contact  with  the  lighted  cigars, 
which  sets  him  off  in  a  fresh  volley  of  oaths  and 
imprecations  upon  "  the  mosquitoes,  whose  stings 
are  so  sharp."  Capital  fun  this  for  the  thought- 
less middies,  who  enjoy  it  exceedingly.  All  the 
way  they  go  they  amuse  themselves  by  making  a 
gentle  application  of  the  burning  end  of  the  cigar 
to  the  naked  legs  of  the  poor,  helpless,  tormented 
victim,  who,  supposing  it  to  be  the  mosquitoes, 
pours  forth  fresh  torrents  of  invective  against 
them  at  every  touch,  while  the  true  authors  of 
the  pain  are  convulsed  with  laughter. 


268         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

As  they  draw  near  the  end  of  the  journey  they 
have  to  cross  the  bridge  that  affords  access  to  the 
town  in  that  direction.  By  some  dextrous  move- 
ment the  cherished  cocked  hat  gets  jerked  into 
the  river,  to  the  great  dismay  of  the  negro  driver 
and  the  indignation  of  his  master,  who  curses  the 
poor  slave  lad  in  his  drunken  blindness  as  the 
cause  of  the  disaster,  while  it  is  in  truth  a  freak  of 
the  frolicksome  middies.  By  the  time  they  arrive 
where  the  boat  awaits  them  the  drunken  man  has 
sunk  into  a  heavy  sleep.  They  are  sufficiently 
considerate  to  borrow  a  blanket  from  a  neighbor- 
ing house  to  cover  and  screen  him  from  the  cold 
land-breeze  he  will  meet  on  his  journey  home ; 
and  they  then  commit  him  to  the  care  of  Peter, 
the  driver,  who  has  silently  enjoyed  the  frolic  quite 
as  much  as  themselves.  Peter  grins  almost  from 
ear  to  ear  over  the  silver  coins  with  which  the 
laughing  middies  have  liberally  rewarded  his  serv- 
ices. They  jump  into  the  boat,  and  in  a  few 
moments  report  themselves  on  board  their  ship. 

The  great  man  was  full  of  indignation  when,  on 
the  following  morning,  he  became  aware  of  what 
had  befallen  him  through  his  ungrateful  guests. 
For  some  time  he  was  bent  on  seeking  redress  and 
having  the  youngsters  punished.  He  was,  how- 
ever, made  to  see  that  it  would  be  wise  to  hush  up 
the  matter,  as  exposure  would  be  sure  to  bring 
upon  him  a  flood  of  ridicule,  and  make  him  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  country.  Besides,  the  mid- 
dies had  only  obeyed  his  own  imperative  com- 
mands.    The  midshipmen's  frolic,  however,  came 


The  Midshipmen's  Frolic.  269 

to  be  widely  known  and  talked  about.  Some  spoke 
of  "  poetic  justice  "  when  they  remembered  the 
case  of  Damsel,  that  was  so  prominent  a  few 
months  before  ;  and  others  regarded  it  as  a  "  right- 
eous retribution,"  when  they  heard  how  the  mid- 
dies, in  their  thoughtless  mischief,  had  treated  the 
drunken  slaveholder  in  a  way  so  much  resembling, 
in  some  respects,  his  own  cruel  treatment  of  his 
unfortunate  slave. 


270         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XIV. 

Benjie  and  Juno. 

Get  up,  yon  mulo,  let's  be  goln', 

Let's  be  scratcMn'  ob  de  grabble ; 
De  postman's  horn  he  long  done  blowin', 

And  we'se  a  good  long  way  to  trabble. — ^Negko  Sons. 


<2ii. 


"T  was  several  years  before  the  evils  of  British 
jjf  colonial  slavery  were  done  away,  that  a  travel- 
er on  horseback  was  leisurely  pursuing  his  way 
along  the  main  road  toward  one  of  the  seaport 
towns  on  the  north  side  of  Jamaica.  It  was  dur- 
ing the  forenoon,  when  the  cool,  refreshing  sea- 
breeze  had  come  down,  modifying  the  fierce  heat 
of  a  tropical  sun,  and  dissipating  the  languor  caused 
by  the  overpowering  sultriness  that  had  prevailed 
two  or  three  hours  before.  A  few  miles  back  on  the 
road  he  had  traversed,  a  negro,  mounted  on  a  mule, 
and  leading  another  of  those  animals  laden  with 
packages  carefully  covered  up  with  tarpaulins,  had 
passed  him,  traveling  at  the  rate  of  some  five  or  six 
miles  an  hour.  At  very  short  intervals,  as  he  urged 
his  mules  onward  with  whip  and  spur,  the  negro  rider 
blew  out  loud  notes  from  the  cow's  horn  swinging 
round  his  neck.  Thus  he  announced  the  arrival  of 
the  express  post,  and  conveyed  to  the  planters  on 
the  estates,  and  the  residents  of  the  villages  near 
which  he  passed,  the  gratifying  intelligence  that 


Benjie  and  Juno.  271 

the  monthly  mail  packet  from  England  had  arrived 
at  Port  Royal,  and  their  letters  and  newspapers 
from  HOME  were  now  traveling  to  the  usual  post 
town,  whither  they  might  send  and  obtain  them. 

Several  negro  boys  mounted  on  mules,  with 
leather  bags  strapped  across  their  shoulders,  had 
also  ridden  past  him,  hastening  to  the  post-office, 
and  riding,  as  negro  boys  love  to  ride,  with  head- 
long speed.  At  a  turn  of  the  road,  as  he  ambled 
slowly  on  his  way,  the  traveler  came  up  with  one 
of  these  sable  equestrians,  engaged  in  active  strife 
with  the  animal  he  bestrode.  Mulo  had  all  at 
once,  after  bringing  her  rider  on  swiftly  and  pleas- 
antly for  several  miles,  suddenly  lapsed  into  one 
of  those  sullen,  obstinate  moods  in  which  that  de- 
scription of  animals — at  least  in  the  West  Indies — 
is  very  prone  to  indulge,  and  in  the  most  express- 
ive manner  of  which  she  was  capable  entered  a 
caveat  against  the  further  prosecution  of  the  jour- 
ney. She  cared  nothing  whether  the  master  on 
whose  service  she  had  been  dispatched  obtained 
his  packet  letters  in  due  time  or  not.  Not  so  with 
her  rider,  a  sharp-looking  lad,  with  face  as  black 
as  coal,  and  teeth  outrivaling  ivory  in  their  brill- 
iant whiteness,  and  who  appeared  to  be  not  more 
than  nine  or  ten  years  of  age  at  most.  He  knew 
very  well  that  to  return  without  busha's  (over- 
seer's) letters  would  bring  upon  him  the  fierce 
wrath  of  that  formidable  and  important  function- 
ary, and  entail  upon  him  a  severe  castigation. 
He  was  therefore  by  no  means  disposed  to  give  in 
to  the  mulishness  of  Miss  Juno. 


2/2  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

When  the  traveler  came  up  the  contest  was  at 
its  height,  and  he  waited  to  see  the  issue.  The 
lad  was  making  good  use  of  the  single  spur  that 
adorned  one  of  his  naked  heels,  and  vigorously 
applying  the  tamarind  switch,  which  was  made  to 
do  duty  for  a  riding  whip,  to  the  sides  and  neck  of 
his  steed,  grinning  all  the  time  with  perfect  good 
humor,  as  if  he  enjoyed  the  sport,  and  carrying  on 
an  animated  conversation  with  the  animal,  as  if 
she  understood  every  word  that  he  addressed  to 
her.  But  the  more  he  flogged  and  spurred  and 
chattered,  the  more  energetically  did  mulo  protest 
against  proceeding  in  the  required  direction. 
Taking  the  bit  between  her  teeth,  she  ran  to  the 
right  hand,  rubbing  her  rider's  foot  against  the 
wall.  Then  she  sidled  to  the  left,  tearing  the 
lad's  clothes  and  scratching  his  flesh  in  the  log- 
wood fence  that  bounded  the  road  on  that  side. 
She  ran  backward,  she  whirled  herself  round  and 
round  in  numerous  circles,  like  a  teetotum,  and,  in 
reply  to  the  applications  of  whip  and  spur,  threw 
her  heels  into  the  air,  as  if  bent  on  pitching  her 
rider  forward  out  of  the  saddle.  She  would  do 
any  thing  but  go  forward.  She  would  go  in  any 
direction  but  the  right  one.  The  lad  kept  his  seat 
and  his  temper  admirably  throughout  the  length- 
ened contest,  while  the  traveler  looked  on  and 
greatly  enjoyed  the  scene,  both  mule  and  rider 
being  too  much  occupied  to  take  any  notice  of 
him. 

At  length  a  truce  was  called.     The  negro  dis- 
continued the  use  of  the  switch,  and  the  mule 


Bcnjic  and  yuno.  273 

ceased  her  gyrations,  but  with  her  fore  feet  firmly- 
planted  upon  the  earth  in  such  a  manner  as  seemed 
to  say,  "  I  am  determined  not  to  go  on."  Placing 
his  switch  under  his  arm,  the  boy,  still  occupying 
the  saddle,  proceeded  to  hold  a  colloquy  with  the 
rebellious  animal.  "  So,  Miss  Juno,  you  no  want 
to  carry  me  to  de  Bay  to  fetch  busha's  letters  from 
de  post-office .'' "  The  mule  gave  a  snort,  as  if  to 
say,  "  That  is  assuredly  my  unalterable  determina- 
tion."    "Berry  well.  Miss  Juno,  den  we  mus'  see." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  during  which  he 
was  apparently  thinking  over  the  best  means  of 
escaping  from  the  awkward  dilemma  in  which 
Juno  had  placed  him  by  her  obstinacy,  address- 
ing himself  to  the  mule,  he  said,  "  You  no  go,  eh  } 
Now,  Miss  Juno,  me  bet  you  one  fippenny  me 
make  you  go !  "  The  mule  gave  a  snort,  probably 
of  defiance,  but  which  the  boy  chose  to  interpret 
as  the  signal  of  acquiescence.  "  Berry  well,  you 
say  done.  Me  see  now  wedder  me  no  make  you 
go,  and  carry  me  to  de  Bay.  You  'top  here  one 
little  piece." 

He  then  threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  and 
pulling  the  rein  over  the  animal's  head,  proceeded 
to  make  it  fast  to  one  of  the  logwood  bushes  close 
at  hand.  This  done,  he  went  to  a  narrow  stream 
of  water  that  ran  across  the  road  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. There  he  filled  his  pocket  with  a  number 
of  clean  pebbles  from  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and 
then  he  went  to  a  neighboring  clump  of  bushes, 
from  which  he  pulled  out  several  strong  green 
withs,   and   returned   to   the  mule,   who    received 


274         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

him  with  a  defiant  snort.  "  Now,  Miss  Juno,"  he 
said,  showing  his  glittering  teeth,  "  me  see  who 
sail  win  de  bet."  He  then  filled  up  both  ears 
of  the  mule  with  the  pebbles  he  had  brought  from 
the  brook,  and  tied  them  close  with  the  withs 
he  had  procured  for  the  purpose.  "  Now,  Juno," 
he  triumphantly  exclaimed  as  he  gathered  up  the 
reins  and  vaulted  nimbly  into  the  saddle,  "  we  see 
who  is  de  massa,  Juno  or  Benjie."  Giving  her 
two  or  three  touches  with  the  spur,  Juno  began 
sidling  in  the  wrong  direction,  evidently  as  much 
determined  as  ever  to  be  fractious,  and  to  go  any 
way  but  the  right  one.  But  astonished  at  the 
strange  thundering  noise  in  her  ears  caused  by 
the  grating  and  rattling  of  the  pebbles,  and  not 
knowing  at  all  what  to  make  of  it,  she  threw  her 
heels  high  in  the  air  two  or  three  times  and  fairly 
gave  up  the  contest,  starting  off  at  full  gallop,  with 
little  Benjie  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  and  almost 
frantic  with  delight  that  he  had  conquered  the 
obstinacy  of  Juno  and  gained  his  bet. 

The  traveler  slowly  continued  his  journey  in 
the  same  direction,  laughing  heartily  at  this  queer 
scene  between  Benjie  and  Juno,  and  greatly 
amused  with  the  clever  expedient  of  the  negro 
lad  to  subdue  the  stubbornness  of  Mulo.  After  a 
short  ride  he  arrived  at  the  little  town,  where, 
after  stabling  his  horse,  he  recognized  little  Ben- 
jie, occupied  with  other  lads  who  had  come  on  a 
similar  errand  in  a  game  of  marbles,  caring  very 
little  about  the  anxiety  of  their  respective  masters 
to  get  their  packet  letters. 


Bcnjie  and  Juno.  275 

Curious  to  know  the  result  of  the  little  inter- 
lude he  had  Avitnessed,  he  beckoned  Benjie,  as 
soon  as  he  could  arrest  his  attention,  to  come  to 
him.  But  Benjie,  too  much  occupied  with  the 
business  in  hand  during  his  contest  with  Juno  to 
attend  to  any  thing  else,  had  scarcely  noticed  the 
rider,  who  was  all  the  time  looking  on.  Not  rec- 
ognizing the  stranger,  he  shrank  from  his  approach, 
as  if  somewhat  dubious  concerning  the  traveler's 
intentions.  Instead  of  coming  forward  when  he 
beckoned  to  him,  Benjie  sidled  off,  and  seemed 
very  much  disposed  to  take  to  his  heels.  "  I  have 
no  wish  to  harm  you,  my  boy,"  said  the  traveler  ; 
"  I  only  wish  to  ask  you  a  question  about  Juno, 
and  give  you  a  fippenny,  it  may  be,  if  you  give  me 
a  proper  answer." 

The  prospect  of  a  donation  banished  the  boy's 
fears,  and  he  came  forward  as  requested.  "  I  want 
to  ask  you  whether  Juno  gave  you  any  more 
trouble  after  you  put  the  pebbles  in  her  ears }  " 
"  How  uiassa  know  'bout  Juno  and  de  pebbles  ?  " 
"inquired  the  boy,  with  a  blank  expression  of  coun- 
tenance. "01  was  close  by,  and  saw  and  heard 
all  while  you  were  contending  with  the  mule." 
"  But  massa  no  tell  busha  'bout  de  stones  me  put 
in  him  ear  ?  "  "  No,  I  wont  say  any  thing  at  all  to 
busha.  But  I  want  to  know  about  the  bet." 
The  little  fellow's  face  resumed  all  the  brightness 
which  a  momentary  apprehension  had  banished 
as  a  vision  of  the  angry  overseer  had  flitted  before 
his  mind,  and  again  showing  his  white  teeth,  he 
replied,  "  Me  win  de  bet  fair,  massa."  "  Well,  but 
18 


2/6        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

now  you  have  won  it,  how  can  Juno  pay  you  the 
fippenny  ?  That  is  what  I  want  you  to  tell  me." 
*' Me  make  him  pay  bery  well,  massa."  "But 
how  }  that  is  what  I  am  curious  to  understand." 
"  Massa  no  tell  busha  if  me  tell  massa  }  "  "  No, 
busha  will  never  know  any  thing  about  it  from 
me."  "Well,  den,  you  see,  massa,"  his  bright 
black  eye  twinkling  with  an  expression  of  roguish 
cunning,  "  busha  gib'  me  one  tenpenny  (sixpence) 
to  buy  grass  for  Juno  ;  me  buy  one  fippenny  grass 
for  Juno,  and  toder  fippenny  buy  bread  for  Benjie. 
Dat  way  Juno  pay  him  bet." 

The  traveler  handed  to  him  the  coin  by  which 
he  had  lured  him  into  the  conversation,  and  little 
Benjie  hastened  to  rejoin  his  companions,  triumph- 
antly exhibiting  his  gains,  and  boisterously  jubi- 
lant over  the  stranger's  liberality. 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  277 


"f 


XV. 

Driving  Away  the  Rooks. 

The  sun  of  justice  may  withdraw  his  beams 
Awhile  from  earthly  ken,  and  sit  concealed 
In  dark  recess,  pavilioned  round  with  clouds; 
Yet  let  not  guilt  presumptuous  rear  her  crest, 
Nor  virtue  droop  despondent ;  soon  these  clouds 
Seeming  to  eclipse,  will  brighten  into  day, 
And  in  majestic  splendor  he  will  rise 
With  healing  and  with  terror  on  his  wings. — Bally. 

^F  you  would  get  rid  of  the  rooks  you  must 
destroy  their  nests."  Such  is  the  text  and 
conclusion  of  a  violent  and  inflammatory 
address,  delivered  to  a  large  assembly  of  planters 
and  slaveholders  in  the  court-house  of  the  parish 
of  St.  Ann,  on  the  north  side  of  Jamaica.  They 
are  met  together  to  uphold  the  tottering  system  of 
slavery,  and  to  consult  on  the  best  means  of  get- 
ting rid  of  missionary  laborers  from  the  colony. 
Under  the  restraints  imposed  upon  them  by  the 
instructions  they  have  received  from  the  mission- 
ary authorities  at  home,  these  servants  of  Christ 
take  no  part  in  the  discussions  on  the  slavery 
question,  which  are  now  so  actively  carried  on 
both  in  England  and  the  colonies  ;  yet  the  influ- 
ence they  exert  in  preaching  the  Word  of  Life,  and 
giving  instruction  to  the  slaves,  is  rapidly  under- 
mining the  system  that  makes  man  the  property  of 


278         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

his  fellow-man,  and  degrades  him  to  the  condition 
of  a  chattel. 

There  has  been  a  wide-spread  insurrection 
among  the  slaves  in  a  neighboring  district  of  the 
island.  The  favorite  slave  of  a  respectable  family 
conceived  the  idea  of  effecting  the  liberation  of 
the  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  his  race 
held  in  bondage  within  those  shores.  He  had 
himself  never  felt  the  extreme  bitterness  of  the 
condition  of  a  slave,  for  he  had  never  been  sub 
ject  to  the  harassing,  wasting  toil  of  the  cane 
field,  or  the  brutal,  sanguinary  cruelty  which  fell 
to  the  lot  of  many  around  him.  He  was  born  to 
an  inheritance  of  slavery,  because  he  was  guilty  of 
the  crime  of  having  a  slave  mother.  She  was, 
however,  a  favorite  domestic  in  her  master's 
household,  and  her  lively  boy,  black  as  polished 
jet,  became  the  pet  and  plaything  of  the  family, 
bearing  his  owner's  name,  and  treated  with  as 
much  indulgence  as  any  of  the  troop  of  blooming 
white  girls  whose  sports  he  shared  on  almost  equal 
terms.  As  he  grew  up  to  manhood  the  same  kindly 
treatment  was  continued  to  him,  and  his  master 
had  him  taught  a  trade,  by  which  he  might  earn^ 
without  drudgery,  the  means  of  living  and  of  com- 
fort, for  he  was  one  of  the  few  slave-owners  pos- 
sessing courage  to  disregard  the  selfish  policy  of 
the  slaveholding  class,  which  forbade,  in  all  its 
degrees,  the  culture  of  a  slave  mind. 

Samuel  Sharpe  had  been  taught  to  read,  and  he 
not  only  possessed  a  form  which  might  have  served 
a  sculptor  as  a  model  of  manly  grace  and  beauty, 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  279 

but  he  exhibited  mental  powers  of  no  common 
order,  and,  as  a  member  of  the  Baptist  communion, 
had  obtained  a  considerable  knowledge  of  holy 
Scripture.  Though  experiencing  none  of  the  cru- 
elty so  often  practiced  upon  those  in  bondage, 
he  felt  the  degradation  and  wrong  of  being  a  slave, 
held  as  the  property  of  another  man,  and  liable, 
like  a  horse,  to  be  sold  and  bought.  He  read  the 
newspapers,  and  became  acquainted  with  the  dis- 
cussions going  on  in  the  mother  country  regarding 
the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  the  efforts  put  forth 
by  the  Churches  of  Britain  to  rid  the  nation  of  the 
guilt  and  shame  of  upholding  such  a  system.  He 
heard  at  his  master's  table,  as  well  as  at  numerous 
public  meetings  which  were  held  all  over  the  isl- 
and, the  fierce  denunciations  of  the  slaveholding 
fraternity  against  those  who  were  making  vigorous 
efforts  to  deprive  them  of  their  property  in  the 
bodies  and  souls  of  their  fellow-creatures  ;  and 
he  listened  with  swelling  heart  to  the  avowal  of 
their  determination  to  resist  the  parent  Govern- 
ment in  this  matter,  and  to  transfer  the  island  to 
the  American  States,  in  order  to  secure  the  per- 
petuation of  the  slave  system.  He  therefore  re- 
solved to  strike  a  blow  for  the  freedom  of  his 
race. 

With  consummate  skill  and  secrecy  Sharpe  laid 
his  plans  and  chose  his  companions  in  the  under- 
taking, and  at  Christmas,  1831,  the  whole  of  the 
western  part  of  the  island  was  panic-stricken  by 
a  wide-spread  insurrection  among  the  slaves. 
Sharpe's  plan  was  simply  passive  resistance,  with- 


28o         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

out  injury  to  life  or  property.  "  Bucra  (the  negro 
designation  for  a  white  man)  "  may  kill  some  of 
us,"  he  said,  addressing  a  meeting  of  the  slaves 
held  in  secret,  "  and  I  for  one  am  willing  to  die 
for  freedom ;  but  dey  cannot  kill  us  all,  and  slav- 
ery will  be  done  away." 

The  insurrection  was  suppressed  with  all  the  hor- 
rible atrocities  which  distinguish  the  saturnalia  of 
martial  law.  Sharpe,  with  many  hundreds  besides, 
perished  on  the  gallows ;  the  land  was  drenched 
with  blood,  and  order  was  at  length  restored. 
But  the  blow  for  freedom  had  been  struck.  The 
plan  laid  down  by  Sharpe  was  not  carried  out,  but 
the  result  he  aimed  at  was  achieved.  That  insur- 
rection and  the  events  that  followed  gave  the 
death-blow  to  the  system,  for  it  demonstrated 
that  it  could  not  be  sustained  except  at  the  cost 
of  much  blood.  Before  two  years  had  passed 
away  the  decree  of  the  imperial  Government  had 
gone  forth  that  British  colonial  slavery  should 
cease  to  exist,  and  this,  the  dark  stain  on  the  na- 
tional escutcheon,  be  wiped  out  forever. 

Hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  slaughtered 
negroes  slumber  in  their  bloody  graves;  and  the 
bones  of  many  others,  left  unburied  and  cleaned 
by  the  rapacity  of  the  John-Crow  vulture,  are 
bleaching  under  the  fierce  rays  of  a  tropical  sun, 
when  the  meeting  takes  place  to  which  reference 
has  been,  made.  With  few  exceptions  those  who 
compose  it  are  fresh  and  red-handed  from  the  scene 
of  slaughter.  In  this  part  of  the  colony  planters 
and    slaveholders  have,  for  several   years,   distin- 


Drivhig  Away  the  Rooks.  281 

guished  themselves  in  the  persecution  of  mission- 
ary teachers ;  and  under  the  influence  of  the 
rector  of  the  parish,  who  has  acquired  an  unenvi- 
able notoriety  for  cruelty  to  his  own  and  other 
men's  slaves,  the  missionaries  and  their  Churches 
have  been  assailed  with  the  fiercest  opposition. 
Consigned  one  after  another  to  a  loathsome  dungeon 
reeking  with  unwholesome  miasma,  one  missionary 
has  already  sunk  into  the  grave,  his  young  life  cut 
short  by  persecution  ;  and  another  has  been  com- 
pelled to  seek  the  restoration  of  his  health, 
broken  down  by  the  same  cause,  across  the  sea. 
It  is  no  difficult  matter,  therefore,  for  a  vicious 
press  to  induce  the  planters  in  this  neighborhood 
to  believe  and  act  upon  the  improbable  assumption 
that  the  missionaries  have  been  the  instigators  of 
the  negro  insurrection,  and  that  they  are  the  con- 
cealed agents  of  the  Antislavery  Society  in  En- 
gland. Day  after  day  the  columns  of  certain 
newspapers  teem  with  abuse  of  the  missionaries. 
The  planters  are  urged  to  deeds  of  violence,  and 
called  upon  to  unite  for  the  purpose  of  destroying 
all  missionary  institutions,  and  driving  every  mis- 
sionary teacher  from  the  land.  Powerfully 
wrought  upon  by  such  representations,  and  with 
such  views  and  purposes  filling  their  minds,  these 
men  have  come  together. 

More  than  one  violent  harangue  has  been  ad- 
dressed to  the  meeting ;  and  by  one  man  especially, 
whose  standing  in  the  parish  has  given  him  a  con- 
siderable degree  of  influence,  the  British  Govern- 
ment and  the  British  Churches,  the   Antislavery 


282        Romance  Without  Fiction, 

Society,  Wilberforce,  Buxton,  Brougham,  Lushing- 
ton,  and,  above  all,  the  missionaries,  have  been 
denounced  as  the  enemies  of  the  colony  in  strains 
of  unmeasured  vituperation,  as  leagued  together 
to  rob  the  poor  injured  West  India  planter  of  his 
property  and  his  rights.  The  speaker  being  a 
man  of  intelligence  and  of  some  intellectual  cul- 
ture, and  one  whose  oratorical  powers,  of  no  mean 
order,  have  been  frequently  exercised  in  the  local 
Parliament,  the  effect  of  his  address  has  been  pow- 
erful ;  and  the  passions  and  prejudices  of  his 
hearers  being  wrought  up  to  a  high  degree  of  ex- 
citement, they  are  ready  for  any  lawless  procedure 
that  will  lessen  the  power  of  their  opponents,  or 
tend  to  the  security  of  the  cherished  system  of 
slavery. 

He  is  followed  by  one  whom,  if  we  look  only  at 
the  office  he  fills,  we  should  hardly  expect  to  see 
in  an  assembly  called  together  for  such  a  purpose; 
for  he  is  the  rector  of  the  parish,  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  of  peace  and  love.  But,  alas !  he  is  a 
slaveholder  himself,  and  that  not  of  the  mildest 
type.  His  name  has  only  lately  resounded  from  a 
thousand  platforms  in  Great  Britain  in  connection 
with  a  case  of  flagrant  maltreatment  of  a  female 
slave,  stirring  up  feelings  of  horror  and  indigna- 
tion in  all  who  heard  it.  He  is  a  man  of  learning, 
and  of  more  than  ordinary  intellectual  power ; 
but,  debased  by  contact  with  slavery,  his  sense  of 
right  and  justice  has  been  perverted,  and  he  has 
become  a  panderer  to  the  slaveholding  interest, 
and   the   defender  of   their  unholy   claims.     His 


Driving   'Aivay  the  Rooks.  283 

talents,  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  are  prostituted  to 
the  advocacy  of  oppression,  and  to  the  utterance 
of  libels  upon  the  innocent  and  the  good,  which 
brings  down  upon  him  the  ban  of  the  superior 
courts  both  of  law  and  equity  in  the  mother  coun- 
try. Perhaps  it  may  be  that  those  who  fall  from 
the  greatest  height  sink  to  the  lowest  depth,  as  a 
simple  matter  of  cause  and  effect.  But,  however 
that  may  be,  certain  it  is  that  in  all  that  assembly 
there  is  not  one  who  has  manifested  such  enven- 
omed bitterness  against  missionary  teachers,  or 
has  been  so  active  and  violent  in  opposing  their 
labors  among  the  slaves,  as  himself;  and  beyond 
doubt  the  persecution  of  these  men  of  God,  and 
of  the  slave  members  of  their  Churches,  some  of 
whom  have  been  done  to  death  by  cruel  treatment, 
has  been  mainly,  if  not  entirely,  owing  to  the 
malign  influence  exercised  by  him.  It  is  not, 
therefore,  a  matter  of  surprise  when,  rising  from 
his  seat,  he  follows  in  the  train  of  foregoing 
speakers,  and  denounces  the  missionaries  as  the 
most  dangerous  enemies  of  the  country,  and  the 
fomenters  of  rebellion  among  the  slaves ;  calling 
upon  the  excited,  eager  mass  of  persons  around 
him  to  be  up  and  doing,  and  save  the  country 
from  the  fate  impending  over  it,  by  driving  out 
the  men  who,  to  use  his  words,  "  are  tampering 
with  and  corrupting  our  slaves."  He  concludes 
an  earnest  inflammatory  appeal,  which  has  aroused 
the  worst  passions  of  his  hearers  to  almost  uncon- 
trollable violence,  by  borrowing  the  sentiment  of 
John  Knox,  uttered  by  him  concerning  the  over- 


284        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

throw  of  the  monastic  institutions.  "  The  worst 
and  most  dangerous  of  your  enemies,"  he  says, 
"  are  among  you  ;  they  are  in  your  midst ;  they 
are  in  daily  intercourse  with  your  slaves,  tamper- 
ing with  and  corrupting  them.  For  the  sake  of 
all  that  is  sacred  and  dear  to  you ;  for  the  sake 
of  your  families  and  your  property,  you  must  drive 
them  from  your  midst :  you  must  get  rid  of  them. 
And  let  me  give  you  a  hint ;  a  word  to  the  wise  is 
sufficient :  '  If  you  would  get  rid  of  the  rooks  you 
must  destroy  their  nests !  '  " 

The  effect  of  this  sinister  advice,  given  by  one 
who  professes  to  be  a  minister  of  Christ  and  a 
preacher  of  the  ever  blessed  Gospel,  soon  becomes 
manifest.  It  has  entered  into  not  unwilling  ears ; 
and  the  corrupt  newspapers  in  the  interest  of  the 
planters  are  speedily  found  relating,  in  exulting 
strains,  the  exploits  of  the  St.  Ann's  heroes,  who, 
after  doing  their  part  in  putting  down  the  insur- 
rection of  the  slaves,  are  destroying  "  those  dens 
of  sedition,  the  missionary  chapels,"  all  over  the 
north-west  part  of  the  island. 

For  several  weeks  scarcely  a  day  passes  that 
there  is  not  some  account  of  a  Christian  sanctuary 
burned  to  ashes,  or  leveled  with  the  ground,  by  the 
hands  of  sacrilegious  violence.  The  newspapers 
also  abound  with  boastful  letters  from  the  actors 
themselves,  who  trumpet  their  own  achieve- 
ments, in  depriving  the  poor  slaves  of  the  religious 
instruction  which  constitutes  the  only  alleviation 
of  their  wretched  and  hopeless  condition,  as  if 
they  had  accomplished  some  laudable  undertaking 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  285 

of  which  they  might  justly  be  proud.  A  man 
named  Innis  has  gone  in  open  day  to  the  chapel  at 
Ebenezer,  in  the  mountains  of  St.  Ann,  and,  apply- 
ing a  firebrand  to  a  heap  of  dry  leaves  and  wood 
collected  for  the  purpose  underneath  the  building, 
has  burned  it  down,  and  there  is  not  a  post  or  rafter 
of  it  left.  At  Falmouth,  a  body  of  the  St.  Ann's 
planters,  assisted  by  others  of  the  planting  fraternity 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  aided  by  the  loan  of 
ropes  and  blocks  from  the  sugar  ships  in  the  har- 
bor, have  pulled  down  the  Wesleyan  and  the 
Baptist  chapels  in  the  town.  As  both  were  sub- 
stantial erections,  it  has  been  an  undertaking  of 
great  toil  and  difficulty,  and  has  occupied  several 
days  to  effect  it ;  but  the  work  has  proceeded  un- 
checked by  the  local  authorities,  and  the  chapels 
and  all  other  buildings  associated  with  them  are 
now  heaps  of  ruins.  The  chief  merit  of  this  good 
work  is  claimed  by  and  conceded  to  the  men  from 
St.  Ann's,  who  began  the  demolition,  and  have 
toiled  at  it  without  intermission,  except  for  neces- 
sary rest,  until  its  completion.  At  Ocho  Kios  a 
planter,  named  Taylor,  heads  the  ruffianly  band 
who  destroy  the  missionary  sanctuaries  in  that 
place.  And  so  it  goes  on  from  week  to  week,  the 
St.  Ann's  planters  every-where  taking  the  lead, 
in  accordance  with  the  advice  given  to  them  by 
the  rector,  until  eighteen  mission  sanctuaries,  de- 
voted chiefly  to  the  religious  instruction  of  the 
slaves  and  the  neglected  free  colored  population, 
have  been  destroyed  by  violence,  together  with 
several  missionary  residences  and  other  buildings. 


286         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

It  is  the  proud  boast,  reiterated  again  and  again  in 
the  newspapers  by  the  "  St.  Ann's  heroes,"  that 
*'  all  along  a  range  of  coast  extending  over  seventy 
or  eighty  miles,  and  stretching  far  into  the  interior, 
they  have  not  left  a  single  sedition  shop  standing, 
nor  a  house  in  which  the  sedition  mongers  can 
find  shelter." 

The  friends  of  slavery  in  other  parts  of  the 
island  are  strongly  urged,  by  a  partisan  press,  to 
imitate  "  the  noble  example "  of  the  "  St.  Ann's 
planters,"  until  some  of  the  editors  are  reminded, 
by  those  who  are  friendly  to  the  missionaries,  and 
regard  with  indignation  what  has  been  done  on  the 
north  side  of  the  island,  that  there  is  a  possibility 
of  the  colored  people  being  stirred  up  to  retaliate  ; 
and  in  such  a  case,  it  is  intimated,  the  newspapers 
and  editors  that  have  labored  to  bring  about  such 
results  will  not  be  forgotten.  This  suffices  to  pro- 
duce a  remarkable  change  in  the  tone  of  these 
papers.  The  inflammatory  appeals  already  put 
forth  have  produced  an  effect,  and  there  are  not 
wanting,  on  the  south  side  of  the  island,  those  who 
would  gladly  respond  to  them,  and  emulate  the 
example  of  the  St.  Ann's  chapel-destroyers,  were 
it  safe  to  do  so.  But  it  is  soon  discovered  that 
such  proceedings  are  not  likely  to  pass  with  the 
impunity  which  has  marked  their  progress  in  the 
north.  There  the  free  colored  population  are  few, 
and  thinly  scattered,  and  could  have  no  hope  of 
making  head  against  the  overwhelming  influence 
and  numbers  of  the  planters.  But  in  and  around 
the  city  of  Kingston  there  is  a  formidable  body  of 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  287 

intelligent  colored  and  black  men,  all  of  them 
free,  and  many  of  them  wealthy.  These  owe  much 
to  the  labors  of  Christian  missionaries,  and  hold 
them  in  the  highest  esteem.  They  read  with 
strong  feelings  of  indignation  the  accounts  which 
issue  from  the  press  from  day  to  day  concerning 
the  demolition  of  Christian  sanctuaries,  and  avow 
their  determination  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  the 
sacrilege  on  their  side  of  the  island.  They  ako 
proceed  to  such  demonstrations  for  the  protection 
of  the  chapels  as  prove  that  they  are  in  earnest, 
and  make  it  manifest  that  civil  war  will  be  the  re- 
sult if  any  such  deeds  of  violence  are  attempted 
as  those  which  the  Government  has  countenanced, 
or  at  least  tolerated,  without  a  single  effort  to  re- 
buke them,  in  St.  Ann's  and  Trelawny.  Induced 
by  the  apathy  of  the  authorities  to  combine  in 
large  numbers  for  the  protection  of  property,  they 
refuse  to  disband,  until  the  authorities  pledge 
themselves  to  protect  all  missionary  property 
from  unlawful  violence. 

The  poor  weak  man,  boasting  a  title  of  Irish 
nobility,  who  is  intrusted  with  the  administration 
of  the  Government,  is  either  too  listless  to  inter- 
fere, or  too  much  influenced  by  a  cowardly  fear  of 
the  planters  to  lift  a  hand  in  discouragement  of  the 
deeds  of  violence  which  day  after  day  form  the 
principal  topic  of  the  island  newspapers.  His 
sympathies  are  no  doubt  with  the  wrong-doers. 
For  weeks  these  violent  and  unlawful  doings  go 
on  with  his  full  knowledge  of  all  the  details  ;  yet 
not  a  word  proceeds  from  the  chief  magistrate  of 


288         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  land  to  forbid  them,  until  civil  war  becomes 
imminent,  and  a  collision  of  classes  is  brought  on 
which,  should  it  once  break  into  open  violence,  is 
likely  to  end  in  bloodshed,  and  perhaps  in  a  signal 
revenge  of  the  injuries  and  degradations  heaped 
upon  the  black  and  colored  race  by  the  dominant 
class.  This  threatening  aspect  of  affairs  at  length 
moves  the  authorities  to  interfere,  and  the  assur- 
ance is  given  that  all  missionary  property  shall 
be  protected  from  further  damage.  Thus  a  great 
danger  is  averted. 

The  feeling  manifested  on  the  south  side  of  the 
island  among  the  free  black  and  colored  people, 
who  constitute  the  chief  strength  of  the  island 
militia,  is  not  without  effect  elsewhere.  In  some 
of  the  principal  towns  in  the  northwest  the  chapel- 
destroyers  find  themselves  confronted  by  men 
whom  it  may  be  dangerous  to  provoke.  An  agent 
from  St.  Ann's,  one  of  the  wealthy  planters  of  the 
parish,  was  endeavoring  to  stir  up  several  persons 
of  his  own  class  to  destroy  a  Christian  sanctuary 
at  Montego  Bay,  which  stood  near  the  house  in 
which  he  was  lodging.  With  much  self-compla- 
cency he  was  pointing  out  to  them  how  it  might 
be  done,  and  how  the  planters  had  acted  in  the 
district  from  which  he  came.  A  colored  man  who 
had  listened  to  him  suddenly  stepped  up,  and, 
tapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  directed  his  attention 
to  a  double-barreled  gun  standing  in  a  corner  of 
the  room.  "  Mr.  M.,  do  you  see  that  gun  ?  It 
has  a  brace  of  balls  in  it.  There  are  more  all 
around  the  neighborhood  prepared  for  the  same 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  289 

purpose  and  loaded.  There  are  persons  on  the 
lookout  night  and  day,  as  I  am  doing  j  and  I  can 
tell  you  that  the  man  who  approaches  that  build- 
ing to  lay  violent  hands  upon  it,  will  have  an 
ounce  of  lead  in  his  brain  before  he  is  aware.  If 
you  are  wise  you  will  speedily  clear  out  from 
this  neighborhood."  The  planter  returned  home 
without  loss  of  time,  and  the  evil  was  arrested 
in  that  locality. 

The  hostility  to  the  missionaries  and  their 
labors  is,  however,  by  no  means  modified  among 
the  dominant  class.  Under  the  influence  of  the 
rector  of  St.  Ann,  who  instigated  the  chapel-de- 
stroyers to  their  evil  work,  and  who  exults  abun- 
dantly in  what  they  have  accomplished,  a  wide- 
spread combination  is  formed  under  the  designation 
of  the  "  Colonial  Church  Union."  The  avowed 
objects  of  this  association  are,  to  carry  on  a 
crusade  against  all  missionary  agents,  to  drive 
them  from  the  island,  and  so  conserve  the  interests 
of  the  slave  institution.  Many  willingly,  and  some 
through  fear,  give  in  their  adhesion  to  the  perse- 
cuting league — for  a  complete  system  of  terrorism 
has  been  established — until  all  the  planters,  and 
nearly  all  the  white  men  of  the  colony,  are  in- 
cluded in  this  formidable  "  union."  Not  a  few 
missionaries  are  consigned  to  loathsome  prisons 
by  planter  magistrates  in  order  to  silence  them  ; 
and  some,  treated  with  brutal  violence  by  planter 
mobs,  have  only  escaped  with  life  through  the 
prompt  interposition  of  free  black  and  colored 
men  ;  blood  having  been  shed,  and  life  sacrificed, 


290         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

on  these  occasions.  One  planter,  who  had  joined 
with  a  mob  to  break  into  the  dwelling  of  a  mission- 
ary, and  put  him  to  death  after  a  barbarous  fashion, 
paid  the  penalty  of  his  folly  with  his  life.  The 
assailing  party  were  driven  back  by  the  vigorous 
arms  of  a  few  colored  men,  when  this  unfortunate 
man  fell  through  mistake,  in  the  partial  darkness, 
into  the  hands  of  his  own  party,  who,  supposing 
that  they  had  got  the  missionary  into  their  power, 
dealt  upon  him  such  severe  blows  as  to  fracture 
his  skull  before  they  discovered  their  mistake. 
After  he  had  lingered  for  gome  time  in  great  suf- 
fering, never  able  to  resume  his  employment,  the 
wounds  he  had  received  brought  him  prematurely 
to  the  grave,  his  dying  hours  being  cheered  by 
the  prayers  and  counsels  of  one  of  the  missionaries 
whom  he  had  sought  to  destroy. 

For  some  months  the  Colonial  Church  Union 
rules  the  colony,  and  all  other  authority  is  virtually 
superseded.  The  magistrates  are  compelled  to 
do  its  bidding,  and  use  their  authority  according 
to  its  designs  ;  every  jury  box  in  the  land  is  under 
its  control ;  and  the  feeble  governor,  and  the  offi- 
cers of  the  Government,  all  yield  a  willing,  or  un- 
willing, submission  to  its  dictates.  In  some  parts 
of  the  island,  where  the  missionary  sanctuaries 
have  been  left  standing  through  fear  of  collision 
with  the  free  black  and  colored  -men,  the  magis- 
trates, acting  under  instructions  from  the  Colonial 
Union,  have  closed  them  and  suspended  religious 
services,  scattering  the  congregation  and  imprison- 
ing the    minister.      The   missionaries,  threatened 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  291 

with  violence,  or  brutally  assailed  by  fierce  mobs, 
who  break  into  their  house  at  night,  apply  to  the 
magistrates  for  the  protection  and  redress  to  which, 
as  British  subjects,  they  are  entitled,  but  are 
told,  "We  dare  not  interfere."  They  then  state 
their  grievances  to  the  governor,  as  the  chief  mag- 
istrate and  representative  of  the  sovereign,  and 
are  informed  by  him,  "  I  cannot  help  you.  You 
must,  if  you  are  aggrieved,  apply  to  the  courts  of 
justice."  They  know  well  that  this  will  be  in 
vain,  yet  they  carry  their  complaints  before  the 
courts  through  every  obstruction  which  official 
hostility  can  interpose,  producing  abundant  wit- 
nesses both  to  prove  their  grievances  and  to  iden- 
tify the  aggressors.  But  the  grand  juries  are 
composed  of  the  men  who  are  leagued  together  in 
the  Colonial  Church  Union  for  the  purpose  of 
wronging  them,  and,  to  a  man,  stand  pledged  to 
obey  the  behests  of  the  conspirators  who  have 
superseded  the  laws  and  usurped  the  government 
of  the  colony.  The  consequence  is  that  every 
bill  of  indictment  is  ignored ;  and  the  injured 
missionaries,  who  see  their  places  of  worship  lying 
in  ruins,  and  all  their  rights  ruthlessly  trampled 
down,  are  made  to  feel  that,  in  a  British  colony, 
under  the  British  flag,  and  under  a  British  gover- 
nor, there  is  for  them  no  law.  They  can  look  for 
protection  and  redress  only  to  "  the  righteous 
Lord  who  loveth  righteousness." 

Such  a  state  of  things  may  not,  however,  long  con- 
sist with  the  honor  of  the  British  crown,  nor  will  the 
Churches  of  the  motlier  country  endure  in  silence 
19 


292         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

this  triumph  of  clerical  and  planter  intolerance, 
The  curse  and  shame  of  slavery  begins  now  to  be 
felt  by  British  Christians  as  it  has  never  been  felt 
before.  The  nation  wakes  up  to  the  enormity  of 
the  evil.  A  storm  of  indignation  is  aroused  against 
slavery  and  the  slaveholders  such  as  never  swept 
over  the  country  at  any  former  period.  The  Brit- 
ish Government — the  most  potent  in  the  world — 
is  constrained  to  bow  before  it,  and  the  law  for 
abolishing  British  slavery,  carried  by  triumphant 
majorities  both  of  Lords  and  Commons,  is  re- 
corded on  the  statute  book.  The  world  beholds 
the  spectacle,  unparalleled  in  history,  of  a  repent- 
ant nation  voluntarily  giving  back  from  its  treas- 
ury some  of  the  gains  of  wrong-doing,  letting  the 
oppressed  go  free,  and  setting  a  noble  example  of 
justice  and  reparation  to  the  world  by  washing  its 
hands  from  all  further  participation  in  a  cruel  sys- 
tem that  originated  in  the  dark  days  of  barbarism 
and  religious  error. 

Some  months  before  the  act  abolishing  slavery 
passes  through  Parliament  the  feeble  man  who 
occupies  the  seat  of  power  at  the  king's  house  is 
recalled.  A  nobleman  of  different  character  takes 
his  place,  who  is  selected  as  well  qualified  to  in- 
itiate the  new  era  of  freedom  about  to  commence, 
and  the  reign  of  anarchy  soon  passes  away.  The 
Earl  of  Mulgrave,  on  his  arrival,  finds  the  island 
pros  rate  at  the  feet  of  the  Colonial  Church  Union, 
planter  mobs  superseding  by  lawless  violence  the 
administration  of  law  and  justice,  and  thousands 
of  the    people    arbitrarily    deprived    of    religious 


Drivifig  Away  the  Rooks.  293 

ordinances.  It  takes  him  a  little  while  to  make 
observations  and  acquaint  himself  with  the  condi- 
tion of  public  affairs,  and  then  he  begins  to  act.  A 
proclamation  is  published  denouncing  the  Colonial 
Church  Union  as  an  unlawful  conspiracy  against 
the  rights  and  liberties  of  British  subjects,  and 
calling  upon  all  who  hold  commissions,  either 
civil  or  military,  under  the  crown,  to  detach 
themselves  from  the  illegal  combination  under 
penalty  of  his  majesty's  displeasure.  This  docu- 
ment, posted  in  public  places,  and  advertised  in 
the  newspapers,  creates  great  consternation  among 
the  conspirators,  while  it  gives  much  joy  to  the 
oppressed.  But  the  whole  planter  community  is 
on  foot  to  resist  such  "  a  tyrannical  interference 
with  their  rights  as  colonists."  "  Is  not  the  island 
ours  .'*  Shall  we  not  do  what  we  will  with  our 
own  }  Shall  it  be  endured  that  these  seditious 
corrupters  of  our  slaves  shall  be  protected  by  the 
Government  in  interfering  with  our  property  ?  " 
Meeting  after  meeting  is  held,  and  the  conduct  of 
the  Government  is  denounced  by  the  colonial 
Church  orators  with  much  fierce  and  fiery  decla- 
mation, and  the  more  robust  adherents  of  the  ex- 
ploded union,  urged  on  by  the  St.  Ann's  rector, 
who  has  the  address  to  keep  himself  out  of  sight 
in  the  matter,  defy  the  governor,  and  pour  con- 
tempt upon  the  royal  proclamation. 

But  the  contest  is  of  brief  duration.  With  a 
promptitude  and  firmness  contrasting  strongly 
with  the  listlessness  and  reckless  disregard  of 
duty   manifested   by   his   predecessor,   the    noble 


294         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

earl  presents  himself  at  every  post  of  danger. 
The  men  of  violence  more  than  onc^  find  them- 
selves, in  the  performance  of  their  lawless  doings, 
suddenly  confronted  by  the  governor,  and  see  the 
chief  magistrate  in  their  midst  when  they  believe 
him  to  be  a  hundred  miles  distant.  By  a  policy 
as  just  as  it  is  wise,  and  with  a  zeal  honorable 
alike  in  its  forbearance  and  in  its  courage,  shrink- 
ing neither  from  fatigue  nor  from  danger,  his  pur- 
pose is  soon  accomplished.  Militia  officers  who 
refuse  obedience  to  their  captain-general  are  su- 
perseded, and  find  their  commissions  canceled ; 
magistrates  who  daringly  violate  the  law  in  their 
own  persons  are  dismissed  from  the  office  they 
have  abused  and  dishonored.  In  a  few  weeks  the 
persecuting  association  melts  away  like  snow  in  the 
sun,  and  peace  and  order  are  restored  throughout 
the  island,  the  forerunners  of  a  day  shortly  to  dawn 
upon  these  sunny  isles,  when  -liberty  shall  be  pro- 
claimed to  the  captive,  and  the  opening  of  the 
prison  door  to  them  that  are  bound. 

But  the  matter  is  not  suffered  to  rest  here. 
There  is  a  book  which  says  concerning  those  who 
"  take  counsel  together,  against  the  Lord,  and 
against  his  anointed,  saying.  Let  us  break  their 
bands  asunder,  and  cast  away  their  cords  from  us. 
He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh  :  the 
Lord  shall  have  them  in  derision.  Then  shall  he 
speak  unto  them  in  his  wrath,  and  vex  them  in  his 
sore  displeasure.  Yet  have  I  set  my  king  upon 
my  holy  hill  of  Zion.  .  .  .  Thou  shalt  break  them 
with  a  rod  of  iron ;  thou  shalt  dash  them  in  pieces 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  295 

like  a  potter's  vessel."  It  is  against  him  these 
men  have  conspired.  It  is  the  spread  of  his  truth 
they  are  leagued  together  to  oppose.  It  is  against 
places  consecrated  to  his  worship  and  the  preach- 
ing of  his  Gospel  that  they  have  dared  to  lift  the 
hand  of  sacrilegious  violence,  and  lay  them  even 
with  the  ground.  It  is  to  prevent  the  light  of  his 
word  reaching  the  souls  for  whom  Christ  died,  in 
order  that  they  may  shut  them  up  in  heathen 
darkness,  and  keep  them  groaning  under  the  iron 
yoke  of  oppression.  "  And  shall  not  the  Lord 
visit  for  these  things  .''  "  Yea,  assuredly,  if  there 
be  any  truth  in  the  threatenings  which  his  word 
records,  and  any  meaning  in  the  lessons  of  human 
history.  It  is  a  strife  with  God  which  these  men 
have  been  carrying  on,  and  "  Woe  unto  him  that 
striveth  with  his  Maker,"  is  the  warning  which  the 
Bible  proclaims,  and  history  illustrates  by  a  thou- 
sand impressive  facts.  They  have  evaded  the 
penalties  imposed  by  human  laws  upon  wrong- 
doers, but  they  may  not  so  easily  elude  the  justice 
and  power  of  him,  the  scepter  of  whose  kingdom 
is  a  scepter  of  righteousness.  Even  in  connec- 
tion with  this  life  it  may  be  seen  in  Jehovah's 
dealings  with  these  men  of  violence,  how  "  He  or- 
daineth  his  arrows  against  the  persecutors." 

In  the  same  newspaper  columns  in  which  their 
sacrilegious  exploits  were  blazoned  forth  in  proud 
bravado  to  the  world,  the  names  of  these  evil- 
workers  are  to  be  inscribed  as  passing  away  from 
earth  in  rapid  succession  to  appear  before  the  just 
Judge  of  all  the  earth.     General  readers  perceive 


296         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

little  in  these  records  beyond  the  ordinary  course 
of  earthly  events,  and  the  accidents  which  fre- 
quently checker  with  their  shadows  the  every  day 
history  of  human  life.  But  those  who  know  the 
association  these  men  have  had  with  the  dark 
deeds  of  the  past,  and  who  are  accustomed  to 
consider  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  regard  the 
operations  of  his  hand,  in  the  light  shed  upon 
them  by  divine  revelation,  see,  in  the  tragic  cir- 
cumstances attending  the  swift  removal  of  so 
many  of  these  persecutors  from  life,  the  fulfillment 
of  the  Divine  word,  "  Though  hand  join  in  hand, 
the  wicked  shall  not  be  unpunished."  And  as 
they  drop  in  rapid  succession  into  the  grave,  cut 
off  by  '"''accident'"  or  by  suicide,  or  otherwise  borne 
swiftly  from  life  in  the  midst  of  their  days,  even 
the  surviving  partakers  in  their  evil  deeds  dis- 
cover something  remarkable  in  it,  so  that  one  who 
had  been  prominent  and  active  above  many  of  his 
fellows,  and  who  lived  long  enough  to  afford  evi- 
dence that  he  repented  of  the  evil,  acknowledged, 
as  he  contemplated  the  mournful  end  of  many  of 
his  associates,  "  The  hand  of  the  Lord  is  in  this." 
And  truly  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  in  these  oc- 
currences, however  the  skeptic  or  the  worldling 
may  curl  his  lip  in  haughty  scorn  and  cry,  "  Fa- 
naticism !  "  If  it  be  true  that  a  sparrow  falleth 
not  on  the  ground  without  our  heavenly  Father, 
these  erring  heirs  of  immortality  are  not  swept 
away  from  life,  with  all  their  stupendous  account- 
ability attaching  to  them,  without  his  intervention. 
Nor  is  the  manner  of  their  removal  from  earth, 


Driving  Azvay  the  Rooks.  297 

any  more  than  the  death  itself,  the  result  of  mere 
chance  or  accident.  It  is  the  ordering  of  that 
Providence  which  with  unerring  wisdom  controls 
with  regard  to  every  human  being  the  issues  of 
life. 

Mr.  I.  is  a  man  who  has  been  one  of  the  most 
active  in  the  demolition  of  Christian  sanctuaries. 
He  is  the  proprietor  of  a  small  property  in  the  in- 
terior of  St.  Ann's,  and  one  of  those  who  listen 
with  excited  feelings  to  the  sinister  eloquence  of 
the  rector  when,  like  Ahithophel,  he  urges  upon  his 
hearers  counsel  largely  impregnated  with  the  wis- 
dom of  the  old  Serpent.  None  enters  upon  the 
unholy  work  with  more  active  zeal  than  he. 
Among  the  first  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  a 
chapel  distant  from  his  own  house,  he  labors  with 
untiring  energy,  pouring  out  abundant  oaths  and 
curses,  until  the  building,  which  has  only  just 
been  completed  at  considerable  cost,  is  a  ruin. 
In  several  other  undertakings  of  a  similar  kind  he 
is  one  of  the  most  earnest  workers,  denouncing 
the  missionaries  with  an  intensity  of  bitterness 
and  profusion  of  blasphemy  and  profanity  quite 
characteristic  of  a  Jamaica  planter.  Returning 
home  he  finds  that  a  missionary  sanctuary  quietly 
hidden  in  the  mountains,  and  not  very  distant 
from  his  own  house,  has  not  been  destroyed. 
His  hand  it  is  that  applies  the  torch  and  commits 
it  to  the  flames,  and  the  little  place  of  worship, 
where  many  a  toil-worn  slave  has  received  the 
only  consolation  his  unhappy  lot  admitted  of,  dis- 
appears from  the  scene  of  rural  beauty,  of  which 


298         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

it  was  the  principal  ornament.  Only  a  few  months 
elapse,  and  the  announcement  of  his  death  appears 
in  the  newspapers.  But  it  is  not  stated  there, 
though  it  is  a  fact  well  known  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, that  the  unhappy  man,  having  become  in- 
volved in  difficulties,  has  sought  to  get  rid  of  his 
troubles  by  suicide.  The  hand  that  Avas  sacrile- 
giously raised  to  destroy  the  house  of  God  has  been 
lifted  against  his  own  life.  He  is  found  dead  with 
his  throat  cut,  the  weapon  with  which  he  had 
committed  the  deed  still  clasped  in  his  hand. 

Mr.  T.  is  a  planter,  the  overseer  of  a  large  sugar 
plantation  in  St.  Ann's,  a  man  of  bold,  daring  char- 
acter, fearing  neither  God  nor  man,  just  fitted  for 
such  ungodly  work  as  that  marked  out  by  the 
rector,  and  he  enters  upon  it  with  all  the  enjoy- 
ment of  which  such  a  rough  and  turbulent  nature 
is  capable.  No  hand  is  more  energetic  than  his 
in  fixing  and  hauling  ropes  by  which  places  sacred 
to  the  worship  of  God  are  pulled  down  and  deso- 
lated. No  shout  rises  higher  than  his  as  the  flames 
burst  forth  which  consume  the  missionary  chapel 
or  dwelling-house,  and  wherever  any  thing  of  the 
kind  is  going  on  he  is  sure  to  be  there.  He  heads 
the  party  which  destroys  the  mission  station  near- 
est to  his  own  dwelling,  affecting  no  concealment, 
and  he  continues  at  the  congenial  work  until  every 
building  upon  it  has  disappeared — the  very  mate- 
rials being  carried  off  to  be  used  elsewhere,  a 
goodly  portion  of  them  falling  into  his  own  pos- 
session. Loud  is  the  exultation  of  this  man  when, 
through  a  large  district  of  country,  not  a  "  secta- 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  299 

rian  place  of  worship"  is  left  standing;  louder  still 
is  his  boasting  joy  when  brother  planters  on  the 
grand  jury,  disregarding  all  the  evidence  which 
clearly  identifies  him  and  his  fellows  as  law  break- 
ers and  chapel-destroyers,  and  equally  disregard- 
ing the  solemn  oath  they  had  taken  to  do  justice, 
ignore  the  bills  of  indictment,  and  shield  the  men 
of  violence  and  blood  from  the  penalties  of  the 
laws  they  have  violated.  A  few  months  roll  away, 
and  the  newspapers  report  '"''  the  sad  accidenf  which 
has  deprived  the  colony  of  this  valuable  member 
of  the  community.  He  is  looking  about  a  build- 
ing in  course  of  erection  on  the  plantation  of 
which  he  is  the  overseer  when  he  inadvertently 
sets  his  foot  upon  an  old  rusty  nail  pointing  up 
from  a  piece  of  timber.  Being  a  heavy  man,  it 
pierces  through  his  boot  and  penetrates  the  flesh 
among  the  sinews  of  the  foot.  Disregarded  as  a 
trifling  matter,  no  importance  is  attached  to  the 
apparently  slight  wound.  But  in  a  day  or  two 
there  is  inflammation,  then  follows  gangrene,  pro- 
ducing locked-jaw  and  death.  The  chapel-de- 
stroyer, in  the  very  prime  of  lusty  health  and 
vigor,  has  dropped  suddenly  into  the  grave,  to  be 
followed  very  shortly  by  several  others  who  were  of 
the  party  he  had  led  on  to  destroy  a  mission  station, 
five  of  whom  pass  away  to  appear  in  the  presence 
of  the  Just  and  Holy  One,  with  the  guilt  of  self- 
murder  upon  their  souls. 

There  is  Mr.  L.  He  has  headed  a  party  of  ruf- 
fianly men  in  surrounding  a  missionary's  dwelling, 
within  whose  wooden  walls  the  missionary  and  his 


300         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

family  were  sleeping,  and  under  cover  of  darkness 
they  have  riddled  the  peaceful  habitation  with 
musket  balls,  firing  a  succession  of  volleys  into  it, 
with  the  diabolical  purpose  of  destroying  the  un- 
offending inmates  when  they  had  retired  to  rest. 
He  also  has  been  active  in  the  demolition  of 
Christian  sanctuaries.  His  name,  too,  soon  ap- 
pears in  the  records  of  mortality,  for  with  the 
weapon  he  had  used  in  the  attempt  to  assassinate 
a  peace '"ul  family  he  scatters  his  own  brains,  and 
thus  passes  away  from  among  the  living. 

There  is  Mr.  H.,  a  minister  of  religion,  and  the' 
rector  of  a  large  parish,  who  had  not  scrupled  to 
take  an  active  part  in  destroying  mission  chapels, 
and  to  enlarge  his  own  library  with  the  plunder  of 
a  missionary's  study.  He  is  a  profligate  and  blas- 
phemer of  the  worst  type.  This  man  is  swept  to 
an  early  grave  in  a  duel  which  he  forces  upon  his 
most  intimate  friend.  Foremost  in  deeds  of  vio- 
lence and  persecution,  he  had  plotted  the  secret 
murder  of  a  missionary  in  the  mere  wantonness  of 
a  cruel  disposition  which  delighted  in  shedding 
blood.  He  had  made  an  open  boast  of  "  the  ex- 
cellent fun  it  was  to  get  a  crack  at  a  nigger,  and 
see  him  toppled  over  with  a  bullet  in  his  black 
carcass."  He  does  not  find  that  there  is  much 
fun  in  it  when  a  bullet  cut  short  his  own  wicked 
career  before  he  has  passed  his  prime,  known  only 
as  a  man  in  whom,  notwithstanding  the  sacred 
office  from  which  he  derived  his  living,  there  was 
an  utter  abnegation  of  every  good  quality,  and  a 
fearful  proficiency  in  whatever  is  debasing  and  vile. 


Driving  Aivay  the  Rooks.  301 

There  is  Mr.  M.,  a  wealthy  proprietor,  who  has 
been  a  sufferer  to  a  large  extent  by  the  negro  in- 
surrection, all  the  valuable  buildings  of  his  plan- 
tation having  been  burned  by  the  insurgent  ne- 
groes. He  perhaps  has  a  better  apology  than 
many  others  for  the  deeds  of  violence  and  sacri- 
lege in  which  he  has  been  induced  to  become  an 
active  participator,  for  he  was  led  to  believe  the 
improbable  story  that  the  missionaries  instigated 
the  slaves  to  make  that  effort  to  seize  their  free- 
dom which  has  led  to  such  sacrifice  of  life  and 
property.  He  has  been  spending  the  day  with  a 
large  circle  of  friends  in  trials  of  skill  with  rifles 
and  pistols,  and  indulging  freely  in  the  use  of 
beverages,  of  which  there  is  never  any  scarcity 
when  Jamaica  planters  congregate  for  any  pur- 
pose. The  whole  party,  animated  and  gay,  are 
assembled  in  the  drawing-room  after  dinner,  dis- 
cussing the  occurrences  of  the  day,  when  a  young 
man,  who  has  accidentally  joined  the  party,  takes 
up  from  the  table  on  which  they  were  laid  one  01 
the  pistols  which  have  contributed  to  the  sport  of 
the  noisy  revelers.  Not  aware  that  it  is  loaded, 
and  little  accustomed  to  such  articles,  while  he 
clumsily  examines  it  the  pistol  explodes.  The 
fatal  contents  are  lodged  in  the  person  of  the 
owner  of  the  mansion,  inflicting  a  wound  which  in 
a  few  brief  hours  lays  him  low  in  death,  making 
his  blooming  young  wife  a  widow,  and  two  or  three 
little  ones  fatherless. 

There  is  Major  C,  the  servile  tool  of  dominant 
intolerance,  who,  at  the  bidding  of  a  persecuting 


302         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

faction,  has  abused  his  authority  as  a  magistrate 
to  hinder  and  suppress  the  worship  of  God,  send- 
ing missionaries  to  prison  for  preaching  the  truth, 
and  acting  as  a  leader  in  the  destruction  of  houses 
of  prayer.  He  also  is  singled  out  as  an  early  ex- 
ample of  retribution.  He  is  returning  as  morning 
dawns  from  a  gay  party,  where  the  night  has  been 
spent  in  dancing  and  dissipation,  and  the  wine  has 
circulated  freely.  Being  less  steady  than  usual  in 
consequence  of  what  he  has  imbibed  through  the 
night,  he  falls  heavily  against  some  stone  steps 
that  are  in  his  path.  No  serious  results  are  at 
first  apprehended  from  the  accident,  as  he  is  able 
to  rise  and  pursue  his  walk.  But  internal  injuries 
have  been  received,  and  before  the  day  wanes  to 
its  close  he  has  ceased  to  be  numbered  with  the 
living. 

Mr.  B.  has  his  life  prematurely  brought  to  an 
end  by  restive  mules  overturning  the  vehicle  in 
which  he  is  traveling.  Mr.  M'C.  is  found  dead  in 
his  bed  with  a  ghastly  wound  in  his  throat,  but 
whether  inflicted  by  his  own  hand  or  by  the  hand 
of  an  assassin,  cannot  be  determined.  Mr.  H., 
one  of  the  most  prominent  and  malignant,  as  he  is 
one  of  the  most  influential,  of  all  the  persecuting 
faction,  is  smitten  by  the  hand  of  death  at  his  own 
festive  board,  surrounded  by  men  of  kindred  spirit, 
and  he  retires  from  the  hilarious  assemblage  he 
has  been  feasting  only  to  stretch  himself  upon  the 
couch  from  which  he  v/ill  never  again  rise  in  life. 
Mr.  L.  suddenly  disappears  from  the  aristocratic 
circle  of  which  he  has  been  for  many  years  one  of 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  303 

the  most  influential  members,  and  the  fact  soon 
transpires  that  he  is  a  defaulter  to  a  large  amount 
in  the  public  office  he  has  filled,  and  public  funds  and 
private  interests  suffer  largely  from  his  betrayal  of 
the  trust  confided  to  him.  Reduced  to  poverty, 
and  with  a  dishonored  name,  he  sinks  into  de- 
spondency, and  presumptuously  opening  for  him- 
self a  way  to  the  unseen  world,  he  is  laid  in  a  sui- 
cide's grave. 

So  does  God's  providence  work.  His  hand  is 
manifestly  lifted  up  to  vindicate  and  sustain  his 
cause ;  and  one  after  another,  as  "  his  arrows  are 
ordained  against  the  persecutors,"  the  men  of  vio- 
lence disappear  from  life,  furnishing  most  impres- 
sive illustrations  of  the  words  of  the  Psalmist :  "  I 
have  seen  the  wicked  in  great  power,  and  spread- 
ing himself  like  a  green  bay  tree.  Yet  he  passed 
away,  and,  lo,  he  was  not :  yea,  I  sought  him, 
but  he  could  not  be  found.  .  .  .  The  transgressors 
shall  be  destroyed  together :  the  end  of  the 
wicked  shall  be  cutoff."  Psalm  xxxvii,  35-38. 

Several  years  have  passed  away,  and  a  large 
number  of  those  who  Avere  once  banded  together 
to  break  up  missionary  institutions,  and  drive  mis- 
sionaries from  the  land,  are  slumbering  in  the 
dust,  while  some  have  seen  the  error  of  their  ways, 
and  look  back  with  regret  upon  the  deeds  of 
violence  and  wrong  into  which  they  were  led  by 
following  evil  counsel.  In  several  instances  men 
of  this  class,  admonished  by  the  fate  which  has 
overtaken  so  many  of  their  co-operators  in  an  evil 
work,  have  contributed   to   rebuild  the   Christian 


504        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

sanctuaries  they  assisted  to  destroy.  "  Do  you  re- 
meniber  having  met  with  Mr.  S.  before?"  This 
inquiry  is  addressed  to  a  missionary  by  a  fellow- 
traveler  as  they  are  riding  away  from  a  sugar- 
plantation,  whither  they  were  driven  for  shelter  by 
stress  of  weather  the  night  before  ;  and  where,  as 
the  bad  weather  continued,  they  have  been  com- 
pelled to  pass  the  night,  experiencing  at  the  hands 
of  the  gentleman  in  charge  of  the  property  all 
possible  kindness  and  hospitality.  "  No,"  the  mis- 
sionary replies,  "  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  ever 
seen  him  before ;  but  certainly  his  attention  to  our 
comfort  has  been  somewhat  remarkable.  I  do  not 
remember  that  I  have  ever  experienced  so  much 
kindness  at  the  hands  of  a  stranger."  "You  may 
not  remember  him,  but  he  knows  you  very  well. 
Do  you  remember  when  a  mob  of  white  men  broke 
into  your  house  at  Falmouth  and  nearly  succeeded 
in  setting  you  on  fire  .''  "  "  Yes,  I  shall  not  easily 
forget  that."  "Well,  Mr.  S.  was  one  of  that  mob. 
He  told  me  all  about  it  after  you  had  gone  to  bed. 
He  recognized  you  the  moment  we  rode  into  the 
estate,  and  expressed  to  me  the  pleasure  it  afforded 
him  to  have  the  opportunity  of  making  some  atone- 
ment for  the  past  by  receiving  you  as  his  guest. 
He  was  ashamed  to  speak  of  it  to  you  ;  but  I  have 
no  doubt  that  he  intended  me  to  mention  it,  as  he 
called  me  back,  and  begged  me  to  repeat  the  invi- 
tation he  gave  you,  whenever  you  pass  this  way, 
to  make  his  house  your  home." 

Nor  is  this  the  only  instance  of  repentant  kind- 
ness shown  to  the  same  missionary  by  those  who 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  305 

took  part  in  the  outrage.  The  evil  days  are  gone. 
The  unholy  and  oppressive  system  which  these 
deeds  of  violence  were  designed  to  support  has 
been  superseded  by  the  intermediate  institution, 
designed,  by  a  well-meant  but  mistaken  policy,  to 
prepare  the  way  for  unrestricted  freedom,  and 
the  former  things  are  passed  away.  After  lying 
desolate  for  several  years,  while  the  missionary 
laborers  have  resumed  their  toil  of  mercy  and  love 
in  tents  or  hired  houses,  and  in  some  instances 
under  the  shade  of  the  wide-spreading  cedar  or 
broad-leaf,  the  destroyed  chapels  are  beginning  to 
rise  again  in  larger  dimensions,  and  increased  in 
number.  Thousands  flock  to  hear  the  word  of  life 
who  never  heard  it  before  ;  religious  agencies  are 
multiplied,  and  the  persecutions  of  past  years  have 
resulted  in  giving  an  impulse  to  the  cause  of  truth 
and  religion  in  the  land  such  as  it  never  felt 
before. 

There  is  one  of  the  persecutors  remaining  who 
in  the  evil  days  that  are  past  occupied  a  large 
space  in  the  public  eye,  and  as  yet  gives  no  sign 
that  he  has  come  to  a  better  state  of  mind.  He 
was  the  chief  of  them  all :  the  main-spring,  origin- 
ating and  controlling  the  whole  movement  on  the 
part  of  the  planter  interest  which  has  wrought 
such  tragical  results  for  the  actors  themselves,  but 
has  so  signally  failed  in  the  object  and  purpose  to 
which  it  was  directed.  There  is  the  master  mind, 
whose  lofty  powers  were  prostituted  in  planning 
malignant  mischief  for  other  hands  to  execute, 
and  upon  whom  rests  a  large  share  of  the  responsi- 


3o6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

bility  attached  to  many  a  deed  of  persecuting 
violence  and  wrong,  in  connection  with  which  he 
has  not  openly  appeared.  His  were  the  lips  that 
uttered  inflammatory  counsels,  and  urged  upon  the 
persecutors  to  get  rid  of  the  rooks  by  destroying 
their  nests.  Bitter  thoughts  have  doubtless  fre- 
quently occupied  his  mind  when  he  has  seen  how 
completely  all  his  subtle  schemes  have  been 
blighted  and  brought  to  nought ;  and  that  the  bad 
system,  founded  in  unrighteousness  and  blood,  to 
which  he  linked  his  interest,  and  which  he  labored 
to  uphold  with  zeal  and  talents  worthy  of  a  better 
cause,  has  crumbled  to  the  dust.  But  in  the  se- 
clusion of  his  own  pleasant  parsonage  he  is  almost 
forgotten,  as  an  object  which  the  swift  progress 
of  events  has  left  far  behind,  and  almost  out  of 
sight.  There  are  some,  however,  who  remember 
the  important  part  he  played  in  the  scenes  of  which 
Jamaica  has  been  the  theater,  who  think  of  the 
terrible  sufferings  which  persecuted  slaves  have 
endured  at  his  instigation,  and  know  how  largely 
the  razing  or  burning  of  Christian  temples  and  the 
desolation  of  missionary  houses  have  been  the  work 
of  his  active  brain.  When  they  look  around  and 
see  the  wondrous  way  in  which  retribution  has 
been  dealt  out  upon  the  minor  actors  in  these  evil 
works,  and  how  the  lightning-blast  of  the  Divine 
displeasure  has  fallen  upon  them  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, it  seems  to  them  one  of  those  inexplicable 
mysteries  of  Providence  which  baffle  all  human 
comprehension  that  the  head  and  chief  of  them 
all,  the  guiltiest  and  most  bitter  persecutor  of  the 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  307 

whole,  has  been  left  unscathed.  It  may  be  that 
in  this  instance,  as  in  the  case  of  the  chief  of  the 
persecutors  in  other  days,  the  Divine  Wisdom  has 
purposes  of  mercy  which  transcend  all  human 
thought.  Now,  as  then,  it  may  be  that  it  is  in  His  de- 
signs to  make  him  a  chosen  vessel,  an  instrument  of 
good  to  others.  But  it  is  a  matter  which  belongs 
to  God  alone,  and  none  may  without  presumption 
say  concerning  it,  "  What  doest  Thou  ?  " 

The  time  comes  when  the  mystery  is  solved, 
and  a  stupendous  catastrophe,  that  makes  all  ears 
tingle  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land,  proclaims  as  with  a  trumpet  voice  that,  al- 
though evil-doers  are  endured  with  much  long- 
suffering,  they  are  not  forgotten  of  God. 

One  after  another  many  of  those  who  followed 
his  pernicious  counsels  have  dropped  into  the 
dust,  and  perhaps  with  modified  and  chastened 
feelings  he  may  have  pondered  the  tragic  circum- 
stances which  clouded  their  latter  end.  But,  how- 
ever this  may  be,  no  outward  indications  of  it  have 
appeared  that  human  eyes  could  read,  until  the 
tragedy  occurs  that  lays  all  his  pride  in  the  dust, 
and  forces  from  him  the  acknowledgment  that  the 
hand  of  God  has  been  lifted  against  him  in  visita- 
tion of  his  sins. 

His  dwelling  is  beautifully  situated  upon  a 
lower  range  of  the  lofty  hills  which  rise  abruptly, 
one  height  above  another,  at  the  bay  named  by 
Columbus  Santa  Gloria,  and  looking  down  upon 
the  rock-inclosed  harbor  where  he  suffered  ship- 
wreck, A  little  to  the  right  is  the  narrow  cove  in 
20 


5o8         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

which  his  ships  lay  when  the  celebrated  navigator, 
in  his  extremity  for  want  of  supplies,  practiced 
upon  the  kind-hearted,  ignorant  aborigines,  pro- 
voked by  the  treacherous  aud  cruel  conduct  of  the 
Spaniards  to  leave  the  strangers  to  their  own  re- 
sources, that  memorable  deceit  concerning  the 
eclipse  of  their  favorite  planet,  the  moon,  by 
which  he  induced  them  to  yield  a  ready  compliance 
with  all  his  demands.  The  scene  whereon  the 
eye  rests  from  the  hill  upon  which  that  residence 
is  situated  is  grand  and  beautiful.  To  the  east 
stretches  for  several  miles  a  plain,  covered  with 
the  luxuriant  growth  of  the  sugar-cane,  and  dotted 
with  the  sugar-works  of  several  plantations.  On 
the  hills  which  bound  the  plain,  to  the  west  and 
south,  are  to  be  seen  the  comfortable  mansions  of 
the  more  wealthy  proprietors,  beautifully  embow- 
ered in  groves  of  cedar  or  the  fragrant  pimento 
trees,  whose  rich  dark  green  foliage  contrast  more 
agreeably  to  the  eye  with  the  lighter  and  more 
brilliant  green  of  the  guinea-grass  pastures.  The 
landscape  is  enlivened  and  adorned  with  groves  or 
avenues  of  cocoa-nut  or  cabbage  palms,  their 
leaves  waving  like  majestic  plumes  in  the  breeze, 
and  diversified  occasionally  with  specimens  of  the 
giant  ceiba  or  cotton  tree,  whose  massive  wide- 
spreading  branches  afford  a  grateful  shelter  to  the 
panting  cattle  from  the  fervid  rays  of  the  vertical 
sun.  Looking  northward,  and  stretching  east  and 
west  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  there  is  the  broad, 
deep  channel,  across  which,  although  the  distance 
is  not  less  than  from  ninety  to  one  hundred  miles, 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  309 

through  the  clear  pellucid  atmosphere  of  these 
tropical  regions,  may  often  be  seen  before  sunrise 
and  near  sunset  the  towering  peaks  of  the  mount- 
ains of  Cuba,  a  land  still  cursed  with  the  worst 
horrors  of  slavery,  and  containing  more  than  six 
hundred  thousand  human  beings  held  in  bondage, 
and  doomed  to  a  life  of  hopeless,  unrequited  toil. 
To  the  westward  the  land  scene  is  limited  by  the 
hills  rising  in  some  places  almost  abruptly  near 
the  shore,  on  which  lie  a  succession  of  valuable 
sugar  estates  extending  to  Runaway  Bay — so  desig- 
nated from  the  fact  that  Don  Sasi,  the  last  Spanish 
commander  who  opposed  the  English  in  taking 
possession  of  the  island,  made  his  escape  from  this 
spot  in  a  canoe,  leaving  the  party  he  commanded 
to  their  fate.  And  he  alone  reached  the  shores  of 
Cuba  alive. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  partly  on  its  slope,  lies 
the  little  town  called  St.  Ann's  Bay,  with  wharves 
and  stores  stretching  along  the  shore.  Cocoa-nut 
trees  in  great  abundance,  and  the  rich  foliage  of 
the  orange  and  star-apple,  the  plantain  and  the 
banana,  overshadowing  and  partly  concealing  the 
dwellings  of  the  inhabitants,  impart  grace  and 
beauty  to  the  landscape.  Immediately  under  the 
eye  ships  ride  at  anchor  in  the  harbor,  surrounded 
by  land  and  reefs,  and  accessible  only  by  one  or 
two  narrow  channels.  This  view  calls  up  interest- 
ing memories  of  the  great  navigator,  as  it  was  here 
he  first  approached  the  shores  of  Jamaica,  and 
here  he  passed  through  some  of  the  most  painful 
scenes  of  his  checkered  life,  arising  out  of  the 


310        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

treachery  and  misconduct  of  his  Spanish  asso- 
ciates. The  whole  scene,  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach  from  the  Cloisters — for  such  is  the  name 
that  pleasant  residence  bears  —  is  lovely,  and 
fraught  with  interest  from  its  association  with  the 
past.  But  it  is  destined  to  be  invested  with 
deeper  and  more  painful  interest  as  the  scene  of 
a  terrible  calamity,  bringing  sudden  desolation 
and  untold  agony  and  woe  to  the  secluded  home 
which  overlooks  the  landscape  just  described. 

Lovely  in  their  favored  situation,  the  Cloisters 
are  graced  by  the  presence  of  four  beautiful  girls, 
the  daughters  of  the  gentleman  who  owns  and  oc- 
cupies the  place.  The  house  may  not  be  called  a 
mansion,  for  it  contains  only  just  sufficient  accom- 
modation for  the  family,  and  it  is  old,  and  getting 
somewhat  out  of  repair.  But  intelligence  and  re- 
fined and  cultivated  taste  preside  there — womanly 
taste,  whose  magic  influence  invests  all  within  and 
without  the  dwelling  with  grace  and  beauty,  and 
converts  it  into  a  paradise  of  joy.  These  lovely 
Creole  girls,  beautiful  as  Hebe,  though  varying  in 
the  character  of  their  loveliness,  and  all  in  the 
bloom  and  freshness  of  earliest  womanhood,  have 
but  recently  returned  from  Europe.  There  a  fa- 
ther's fondness  has  lavished  upon  them  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  most  finished  education  he  could 
procure,  and  loving  and  amiable,  as  they  are 
graceful  and  accomplished,  they  are  well  fitted  to 
call  into  exercise  all  the  pride  and  fondness  of  a 
parent's  heart,  as  indeed  they  do.  He  is  a  proud 
man,  but  most  of  all  he  is  proud  of  the  sweet  girls 


Driving  Azvay  the  Rooks.  311 

who  have  come  to  shed  light  and  gladness  upon 
the  home  in  which,  for  several  years  past,  he  has 
had  many  gloomy  and  bitter  thoughts.  The  fount- 
ains of  love  and  tenderness  in  that  sacred  heart 
of  his  are  broken  up ;  he  lavishes  upon  these 
bright  and  attractive  objects  all  the  idolatrous 
fondness  of  which  he  is  capable,  and  almost  for- 
getting in  their  charmed  circle  that  there  is  any 
higher  joy  to  aspire  after,  he  looks  forward,  as 
he  contemplates  the  bloom  and  freshness  and 
sparkling  gayety  of  those  loved  ones,  to  the  sun- 
shine of  many  happy  years.  Nor  does  he  think 
for  a  moment  of  th.e  possibility  that  all  this 
brightness  may  fade  like  a  dissolving  view,  and 
the  objects  of  his  heart's  idolatry  sink  away  from 
his  embrace,  as  if  the  whole  were  a  dream,  him- 
self waking  up  to  the  bitter  reality  of  desolation 
and  woe. 

It  is  a  lovely  morning,  glad  with  tropical  light 
and  beauty.  In  the  harbor  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
on  which  that  bright  home  reposes,  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  shore,  are  several  large  merchant 
ships  resting  upon  the  untroubled  surface  of  the 
quiet  bay,  whose  waters  glisten  like  molten  silver 
in  the  slanting  rays  of  the  morning  sun.  They  are 
waiting  to  collect  the  rich  freight  of  sugar,  as  it  is 
manufactured  on  the  several  plantations  around, 
and  to  convey  it  to  the  shores  of  Europe.  One  of 
these  vessels  is  gayly  decorated,  the  flags  of  all 
nations  streaming  from  her  masts  and  stays,  for  a 
gay  party  has  been  invited  by  her  captain  to  par- 
take his  hospitality,  and  take  breakfast  on  board 


312  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

his  ship.  The  boats  are  in  requisition,  manned 
by  hardy  tars  in  holiday  attire,  and  as  the  guests 
appear  upon  the  wharf  they  are  speedily  conveyed 
to  the  ship.  The  gentlemen  ascend  the  side  lad- 
ders ;  the  ladies,  placed  in  a  chair,  and  carefully 
wrapped  about  with  the  Union  Jack,  are  hoisted 
over  the  ship's  side  to  the  deck.  A  lively  and 
brilliant  party  it  is  that  is  assembled  on  the  quar- 
ter-deck, where  a  thick  canvas  awning,  stretching 
from  side  to  side,  affords  ample  protection  from 
the  sun's  fervid  rays,  while  it  gives  free  admission 
to  the  gentle  refreshing  breeze,  which  at  this  early 
hour  comes  down  from  the  land.  The  guests  are 
numerous,  including  the  principal  members  of  sev- 
eral families  residing  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Bay. 
But  gayest  among  the  gay,  and  loveliest  among  the 
lovely,  are  the  sweet  belles  of  the  rectory,  who, 
with  their  father,  are  there,  and  who  form  the 
principal  center  of  attraction  on  that  ship's  deck. 
On  their  cheeks  is  the  rosy  bloom  brought  from 
Europe,  which  has  not  yet  had  time  to  fade  away 
under  the  paling  influence  of  the  tropics,  and  the 
vivacity  of  the  more  temperate  zone  has  not  yet 
given  place  to  the  languor  engendered  by  long 
residence  in  a  more  ardent  clime.  All  who  look 
upon  these  lovely  girls,  and  mark  their  exuberance 
of  gayety  and  their  lively  sallies  of  wit  and  repar- 
tee^ partake  the  enjoyment,  and  pronounce  the 
father  of  such  a  troop  of  blooming  maidens  a  blest 
and  happy  man.  No  one  has  any  premonition  of 
the  dark  cloud  of  woe  that  is  even  now  enwrap- 
ping them  in  its  folds,  and  in  which  a  large  por- 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  313 

tion  of  that  laughing  group  disappear,  to  be  seen 
no  more  on  earth  forever. 

A  bountiful  and  dainty  repast  is  served  beneath 
the  awning  upon  the  deck,  and  all  is  festivity  and 
enjoyment,  intelligence  and  refinement  being  hand- 
maids of  the  well-selected  company.  The  sea  is 
smooth,  for  only  a  slight  breeze  ripples  the  surface 
outside,  and  within  the  bay  the  water  scarcely 
moves  at  all,  except  as  the  large  waves  roll  slug- 
gishly in  and  gently  break  upon  the  shore.  A  few 
clouds  in  the  distant  sky  indicate  the  possibility 
of  a  shower  later  in  the  day,  but  they  furnish  no 
reason  why  the  proposal  should  not  be  entertained 
to  get  the  ship's  boats  round  from  the  stern  of  the 
vessel,  where  they  are  lazily  riding  on  the  water, 
and  take  a  pleasant  sail  about  the  bay.  It  is  not 
a  time  of  the  year  when  storms  occur,  and  the  idea 
of  possible  danger  in  that  well-sheltered  harbor 
does  not  present  itself  to  any  mind.  Amid  fun 
and  laughter  the  ladies  are  again  swung  over  the 
sides ;  the  sailors,  whose  lusty  arms,  with  a  hearty 
"Yeo,  heave  O,"  hoist  them  into  the  air,  and  then 
let  them  gently  down  to  the  boat,  entering  into 
the  fun  with  as  much  gusto  as  the  gentlemen 
themselves.  At  length  all  are  seated,  the  smart- 
looking  captain,  exulting  in  the  triumph  of  the 
manoeuver  by  which  he  has  succeeded  in  getting 
the  belles  of  the  party,  the  four  charming  sisters, 
into  his  own  boat,  an  arrangement  which  separates 
them  for  the.  time  from  their  father,  who  would 
gladly  have  taken  his  seat  with  them,  only  that  an 
equal  division  of  the  party  among  the  several  boats 


314        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

«:onsigns  him  to  another.  The  usually  quiet  har- 
bor resounds  with  laughter  and  merriment  as  the 
sails  are  hoisted,  and  the  boats  speed  away  from 
the  ship. 

For  some  time  they  sail  about  the  bay,  casting 
out  lines  with  treacherous  bait  to  lure  the  denizens 
of  the  deep,  with  what  results  none  can  say. 
Whether  it  was  that  the  captain,  whose  practiced 
eye  should  have  scanned  the  heavens  with  the 
care  almost  instinctive  in  the  sailor,  was  too  much 
occupied  in  interesting  converse  with,  and  waiting 
on,  his  lovely  charge,  certain  it  is  that  neither  he 
nor  any  one  else  observed  that  the  scattered  clouds 
had  been  attracted  into  one  small  compact  mass, 
and,  charged  with  wind  and  rain,  were  driving 
down  upon  them  in  a  squall,  which,  in  its  com- 
paratively narrow  course,  might,  without  due  care, 
place  them  in  jeopardy.  So  contracted  is  its 
width  that  it  reaches  not  the  other  boats ;  but 
right  upon  the  captain's  boat  the  miniature  tem- 
pest sweeps  with  terrible  fierceness :  and  before 
the  sail  can  be  let  loose  the  boat  turns  over,  fills, 
and  sinks,  and  all  who  were  in  it  are  struggling  in 
the  water. 

A  few  minutes  and  the  squall  has  passed  over, 
but  those  in  the  unfortunate  boat  have  found  a 
watery  grave.  The  captain,  who  was  steering, 
with  the  four  sisters,  and  six  others,  have  all  dis- 
appeared from  life.  The  other  boats  hasten  to  the 
fatal  spot  with  all  possible  expedition,  but  it  is  too 
late.  Not  one  of  those  whom  the  greedy  sea  has 
engulfed  can  be  found  ;  nor  are  they  ever  seen 


.y* 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  315 

again.  Eleven  human  spirits  have  suddenly 
passed  within  the  vail  that  separates  time  and  its 
concerns  from  the  eternal  world.  Whether  the 
victims  sank  down  to  find  a  resting-place  among 
the  reefs  near  which  they  disappeared,  or  whether 
hungry  sharks,  which  frequent  the  bays  and  har- 
bors of  these  western  isles  in  great  numbers, 
especially  when  ships  are  anchored  there,  seized 
them  as  their  prey,  must  be  left  to  the  revelations  -J.^^^ 
of  that  day  when  the  sea  shall  give  up  its  dead. 
But  they  are  gone.  The  lively,  laughing,  joyous 
party  have  all  passed  away  from  human  ken  ;  and 
the  sparkling  wit,  the  sweet  melody,  and  the  pleas- 
ant jest  are  hushed  in  the  silence  of  death.  To 
more  than  one  family  sorrow  and  desolation  have 
been  brought  home  by  the  shocking  catastrophe, 
the  news  of  which  soon  spreads  gloom  over  all  the 
land. 

But  who  shall  describe  the  feelings  which  rend 
the  heart  of  the  bereaved  father,  as  he  looks  on 
from  another  boat,  and  beholds  his  life's  joy 
swallowed  up  in  a  moment  before  his  eyes  }  It 
may  not  be.  No  words  can  depict  the  agony  of 
that  stricken  heart,  or  express  an  adequate  idea  of 
the  great  and  crushing  sorrow  that  presses  upon 
his  soul.  These  daughters,  graced  with  the  charms 
of  youthful  beauty,  the  accomplishments  of  a  re- 
fined education,  the  attractions  of  a  sweet  and 
amiable  disposition,  inherited  from  a  mother  of 
meek  and  quiet  spirit,  and,  above  all,  adorned  with 
a  sincere  regard  for  religion,  were  not  only  admired 
and  loved  by  the  father,  but,  as  he  afterward  con- 


3i6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

fessed  in  great  bitterness  of  spirit,  were  idolized  hy 
him.  He  suffered  them  to  occupy  that  place  in 
his  heart  which  no  creature  or  creatures  ought  to 
fill ;  where  God,  the  great  and  good,  alone  should 
be  enthroned.  And  in  proportion  to  the  pride  he 
has  felt  in  them  and  the  all-absorbing  love  he  has 
lavished  upon  them,  is  the  utter  prostration  of 
spirit  which  he  feels  when  he  sees  the  idols  shat- 
tered;  and  that  upon  which  he  trusts  for  happi- 
ness, and  upon  which  he  has  built  all  his  most 
cherished  hopes,  sinks  out  of  sight  forever.  He  is 
conducted  to  his  desolated  home,  so  lately  full  of 
sunshine  and  joy,  now  dark,  cheerless,  wretched, 
beyond  all  that  language  can  describe.  Friends 
surround  him,  but  he  refuses  to  be  comforted  ;  and 
like  a  stricken  worm  he  lies  writhing  and  groaning 
in  affliction  and  helplessness,  till  weeks  an,d 
months  have  passed  away,  the  world  one  wide 
scene  of  desolation  all  around. 

Time,  that  lessens  the  acuteness  of  the  sharpest 
grief,  brings  some  mitigation  of  his  heavy  burden  of 
distress  ;  but,  what  is  far  better,  he  is  led  to  turn 
his  thoughts  inward  upon  himself,  and  backward 
upon  the  past.  The  views  and  feelings  which  have 
influenced  his  life  are  greatly  modified  as  he  re- 
'gards  them  in  the  surroundings  of  that  chamber 
.  of  sickness  and  sorrow  ;  and  he  begins  to  perceive 
that  the  past  with  him  has  been  a  mistake,  a  sad, 
mournful  mistake.  Among  those  who  have 
stepped  forward  to  show  their  sympathy  with  the 
heart-stricken  man,  and  to  express  their  sorrow  at 
the  teirible    calamity  which   robbed  him  of   his 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  317 

children,  are  those  who  have  largely  suffered  at 
his  hands,  and,  through  his  pernicious  counsels, 
nave  had  their  homes  desolated,  and  their  sanc- 
tuaries laid  waste.  It  is  no  time  now  to  call  up 
the  remembrance  of  such  wrongs,  when  the  God- 
smitten  man  so  greatly  needs  the  condolence  of 
all  loving  hearts,  and  the  richer  consolations  of 
Divine  grace.  A  grateful,  courteous  reception  is 
given  to  men  from  whom  once  he  would  have 
turned  away  in  bitter  scorn  ;  and  he  listens  attent- 
ively while  they  speak  of  a  heavenly  Father 
chastening  in  love,  and  of  heart-rending  afflic- 
tions, which  wring  each  tender  fiber  of  the  heart, 
coming  as  messengers  of  Divine  benignity  to  whis- 
per in  the  erring  sinner's  ear,  "  My  son,  give  me 
thine  heart."  He  joins  with  them,  too,  in  those 
breathings  to  a  throne  of  grace,  which  though 
expressed  in  no  canonical  words,  are  well  adapted 
to  a  case  of  overwhelming  grief,  for  which  no  forms 
of  prayer  he  has  been  accustomed  to  are  appro- 
priate. 

Months  speed  away  before  the  bereaved  one  is 
able  to  lift  himself  upon  the  bed  of  suffering  on 
which  he  has  been  cast,  scathed,  shattered,  and 
stripped  as  with  the  lightning  stroke  of  heaven ; 
but  he  comes  forth  at  length  a  subdued  and  greatly 
changed  man.  The  towering  pride  of  intellect,  of 
station,  of  intolerance,  has  been  smitten  to  the 
dust.  The  vail  which  selfishness  and  worldiness 
had  drawn  before  his  eyes,  and  over  his  heart, 
rendering  him  insensible  to  the  just  claims  of 
others,  and  producing  an  indifference  to  human 


3i8         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

suffering  at  which  he  now  stands  amazed,  is  rent 
asunder.  He  now  perceives  and  humbly  ac- 
knowledges, as  he  looks  upward  from  his  prostra- 
tion, "  It  is  the  Lord  ;  let  him  do  what  seemeth 
him  good." 

But  he  is  not  to  resume  there  those  duties 
which  belong  to  his  ofhce.  He  feels  that  to  be 
beyond  his  power.  Not  there  can  he  remain, 
where  every  object  would  but  recall  perpetually 
the  memory  of  his  lost  ones,  and  revive  the  pangs 
of  that  visitation  of  God  which  blighted  all  his 
earthly  joy.  Not  there,  where  so  many  years 
have  been  awfully  misspent,  where  sacred  duties 
have  been  neglected,  where  deeds  of  crying  wrong 
have  been  done,  which  may  be  repented  of,  but 
cannot  be  repaired.  Not  there,  where  sad,  bitter, 
agonizing  memories  would  be  called  up  by  every 
varying  scene  upon  which  the  eye  could  rest,  and 
shame  and  humiliation  would  meet  him  at  every 
turn.  No ;  he  must  seek  another  home.  Far 
away  in  some  distant  sphere  he  will  exercise  that 
sacred  office,  of  all  the  duties  and  responsibilities 
of  which  he  has  hitherto  been  so  regardless.  And 
so  it  is  determined,  no  doubt  after  anxious  deliber- 
ation and  prayer ;  for,  scoffer  as  he  has  been,  he 
has  at  length  learned  to  pray.  The  living  he  has 
held  through  so  many  years  is  resigned,  and  prep- 
arations are  made  for  departure  from  the  island. 
But  before  finally  separating  from  those  among 
whom  he  has  lived  and  suffered,  as  he  is  yet  too 
much  bowed  down  under  his  affliction  to  meet 
them  in  person,  he  addresses  a  farewell  letter  to 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  319 

his  parishioners,  full  of  pathetic  and  penitential 
acknowledgments.  This  affecting  address  serves 
to  show  that  he  has  turned  to  God  in  his  distress, 
and  justifies  the  hope  that  the  concluding  portion 
of  his  life  will  be  more  worthily  and  usefully- 
employed  than  the  years  that  are  past.  It  also 
affords  conclusive  evidence  that  he,  as  well  as 
those  who,  awe-struck  and  sorrowful,  looked 
upon  it  from  around,  has  been  constrained  to 
recognize  in  the  startling,  crushing  calamity  that 
swept  away  his  cherished  ones,  the  hand  of 
a  righteous  God,  lifted  against  him  in  just  retri- 
bution. 

We  may  not  give  this  touching  appeal  in  full ; 
but  a  few  extracts  will  serve  to  show  the  chastened 
and  altered  views  with  which  the  man  of  violence 
has  been  brought  to  look  upon  both  the  past  and 
the  future : 

In  the  expectation  of  soon  quitting  these  shores, 
I  feel  constrained  thus  to  address  you,  whose 
claims  upon  me  are  increased  by  a  conscious 
neglect  of  many  important  duties  as  rector  of  this 
extensive  parish  ;  and  coming  from  one  who  not 
only  tells  you  that  he  deeply  laments  his  many 
failings,  but  who  stands  before  you  a  terrible  ex- 
ample of  God's  awakening  judgments,  my  words 
may  not,  perhaps,  fall  unheeded  on  the  ears  of 
all.  .  .  . 

"  When  all  around  looked  fair  and  smiled,  a 
dark  and  mysterious  providence,  which  neither 
men  nor  angels  can  at  present  penetrate,  sent 
death    in    one    of   its    most    terrific,    unexpected 


320         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

shapes  among  the  happiest  of  our  domestic  cir- 
cles, cut  short  the  brightest  days  of  many  a 
thoughtless  heart,  and  summoned  eleven  beings 
suddenly  before  their  great  Creator.  .  .  . 

"  Nature  will  be  heard,  and  even  says  we  do 
well  to  weep  for  those  on  whom  death  comes  thus 
suddenly  in  days  of  youth  and  hope.  O  what  a 
strange  and  melancholy  change  have  they  expe- 
rienced !  Instead  of  the  cheerful  light  of  day,  the 
unbroken  darkness  of  ocean's  strange  unfathomed 
caves  now  covers  them  until  the  last  great  day ! 
Instead  of  the  fond  caresses  of  parents,  friends, 
and  children,  the  horrid  monsters  of  the  briny 
deep  are  now  their  sole  companions  !  Their 
earthly  hopes  have  died ;  all  their  expectations 
for  this  life  have  perished !  .  .  . 

"  Such  complicated  misery,  a  more  than  ordi- 
nary share  of  which  falls  to  my  single  lot  to  bear, 
has,  I  confess,  bowed  my  spirit  to  the  very  dust. 
With  unwonted  weight  the  heavy  burden  hangs 
upon  my  soul.  In  the  agony  of  my  heart,  when 
told  of  the  compassion  of  my  Saviour,  I  have 
wickedly  said,  '  Such  compassion  will  not  suit  my 
case.  I  need  more  than  pity.  My  misery  admits 
of  no  relief.  My  children  are  all  taken  from  me, 
and  no  miracles  now  rouse  the  slumbering  dead : 
how,  then,  shall  I  be  comforted  ?  Nothing  is  left 
for  the  desolate  but  to  mourn  and  die  .-* '  Yet, 
alas !  what  a  limiting  of  God's  power,  what  a 
questioning  of  his  equity,  is  this  !  .  .  . 

"  Who  that  has  been  deeply  tried  has  not  expe- 
rienced  the  weakening,   disheartening   effects   of 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  321 

long-continued  sorrow,  something  of  the  selfish- 
ness and  despondency  and  sloth  and  aching  for 
sympathy,  with  that  unconquerable  proneness  to 
look  for  human  aid  which  nature  connects  with 
all  mental  grief?  Yet  if  there  be  a  creature  in 
the  universe  who  has  reason  to  trust  in  God  and  to 
hope  in  his  mercy,  it  is  myself,  a  poor  inhabitant  of 
earth  whom  affliction  has  stopped  in  his  thought- 
less career,  whom  sorrow  has  taught  to  pray,  whom 
adversity  has  led  to  Christ.  Let  one,  then,  who 
feels  that  he  has  but  carelessly  tended  you  as  your 
pastor,  now  serve  you  better  as  a  beacon,  standing 
before  you  a  wretched  instance  of  the  uncertain 
hold  we  have  of  all  our  earthly  comforts.  .  .  . 

"  Remember  the  dear  departed  who  have  been 
removed  hence  for  our  warning,  and  the  trembling 
victim  by  whom  you  are  now  admonished.  Think 
of  my  punishment.  Blessed  with  the  fleeting  com- 
forts of  the  world,  I  was  trusting  in  their  stability, 
secure,  I  thought,  in  my  own  resources.  I  did  not 
remember  that  it  was  God  who  lent  me  what  I  was 
so  blessed  with.  T+iey  were  placed  by  me  be- 
tween my  soul  and  the  Saviour.  I  prized  the  gift 
so  much  that  I  forgot  the  Giver.  So,  to  reclaim 
an  apostate  heart,  he  returned  in  an  unexpected 
moment  and  took  them  all  away.  .  .  . 

"  Does  this  look  like  the  work  of  chance  .''  No  ; 
it  was  the  fearful  work  of  an  offended  God.  To 
vindicate  his  name,  to  compel  all  beholders  to  see 
that  he  was  its  author  in  the  awful  case  before  us, 
he  struck  such  a  blow  as  mortal  arm  could  scarcely 
have  inflicted ;   so  rapid,  so  destructive,  so  unac- 


322         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

countable,  that  unbelief  itself  must  be  compelled 
to  ascribe  it  to  his  omnipotent  arm.  In  a  moment, 
under  the  serenest  sky,  with  scarcely  a  cause  ap- 
parent, eleven  happy  beings,  in  the  bloom  of  youth 
and  health,  are  separated  from  their  parents,  hus- 
bands, and  children,  smile  in  their  death,  and  sink 
beneath  the  waves.  Take  heed,  then,  my  friends, 
how  you  attempt  to  push  God  out  of  his  own 
world.  I  once  tried  to  do  so ;  you  see  what  I  got 
for  it :  the  destruction  of  all  my  comforts,  and 
that,  too,  in  a  manner  so  striking,  so  unexpected, 
that  though  I  saw  them  go,  their  loss  still  seems 
but  the  illusion  of  a  dream.  He  rushed  upon  me 
in  an  imexpected  moment  of  thoughtless  enjoy- 
ment, came  with  the  suddenness  of  lightning,  and 
with  the  violence  of  a  hurricane,  and  scarcely  had 
the  waves  closed  over  my  children  when  I  felt  my 
*  sins  had  found  me  out ! '  He  took  my  four  chil- 
dren from  me  when  they  had  just  become  most 
dear;  when  I  most  required  their  aid;  when  I  was 
clinging  to  them  as  if  indeed  the  world  would  be  a 
blank  without  them-.  In  the  •  sweet  possession  of 
them  I  had  experienced  much  of  God's  mercy,  in 
their  loss  I  am  now  taught  the  last  lesson  that  fool- 
ish man  will  learn  on  earth — God's  sovereignty." 

Many  rejoice  over  these  outpourings  of  a  bleed- 
ing heart,  for  they  show  that  the  Lord's  hand  has 
not  been  laid  upon  the  sufferer  in  vain,  and  that 
he  has  been  driven  by  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  to 
shelter  within  the  wings  of  the  Divine  mercy,  whith- 
er no  sinner  ever  repairs  in  vain.  And  this  is  the 
last  that  is  known  of  him  in  the  colony  where  he 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  323 

has  wrought  and  suffered  so  much  of  evil.  He 
disappears,  to  be  seen  there  no  more.  But  his 
course  may  be  traced  in  two  quarters  of  the  globe 
for  many  years — more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century ; 
never,  however,  by  any  deeds  that  appear  to  be 
unworthy  of  his  changed  character  or  of  the  sa- 
cred office  he  continues  to  fill,  until  he  finds  his 
resting-place  in  the  dust  somewhere  in  one  of  the 
western  counties  of  England.  His  spirit,  it  is  re- 
freshing to  believe,  was  absolved,  regenerated,  and 
purified  from  all  earthly  influences  before  passing 
to  the  better  land,  to  be  forever  with  that  exalted, 
loving  Saviour,  who,  through  the  fires  of  much 
painful  affliction,  had  drawn  him  to  his  own  feet. 
Somewhere  on  the  coast  in  the  west  of  England  a 
large  boulder  is  to  be  seen,  consecrated  years  after 
the  occurrence  by  a  father's  enduring  love,  to  be 
a  memorial  of  the  four  lovely  girls  lying  far,  far 
away  in  their  lonely  watery  grave.  On  this  stone 
the  chisel  has  inscribed  a  record  of  the  catastrophe 
which  left  that  parent's  heart  so  desolate  and  for- 
lorn, but  which  proved  to  be  in  Jehovah's  inscru- 
table wonder-working  providence,  the  crowning 
mercy  of  a  sin-checkered  existence,  and  the  open- 
ing of  the  portals  of  life  to  a  misguided  and  per- 
ishing soul. 

When  the  humbled  man  takes  his  departure  the 
desolations  which  he  helped  to  create  are  being 
repaired,  the  waste  places  restored.  Already  sev- 
eral of  the  razed  sanctuaries  have  been  rebuilt, 
and  others  are  rising  out  of  the  ruin  caused  by 
violent  hands.  This  is  the  case  in  the  little  town 
21 


324        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

which  calmly  reposes  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  upon 
which  the  rector's  dwelling,  embowered  in  beauti- 
ful trees,  resounded  so  lately  with  the  joyous  laugh 
and  lively  song  of  the  fondly  cherished  daughters 
so  suddenly  snatched  away,  and  commanding  a 
full  view  of  the  placid  bay  beneath  whose  waters, 
uncofifined  and  unknelled,  they  and  their  fellow- 
sufferers  await  the  resurrection  morn,  when  "  the 
greedy  sea  shall  yield  her  dead."  Arrangements 
are  going  on  to  rebuild  the  house  of  prayer  which 
for  five  years  has  been  a  heap  of  ruins.  Mean- 
while the  word  of  life  is  preached,  and  the  worship 
of  God  carried  on  beneath  the  folds  of  a  canvas 
tent,  supplied  by  the  liberality  of  Christian  friends 
beyond  the  sea.  This  is  erected  in  the  adjacent 
burial-ground,  where  repose  the  ashes  of  two  mis- 
sionary servants  of  the  cross,  who  finished  their 
labors  here  during  the  recent  persecutions,  which 
the  Divine  interposition  has  now  brought  to  an 
end. 

But  as  yet  no  arrangements  are  in  progress  to 
restore  the  missionary  dwelling  in  the  town  wan- 
tonly destroyed  by  fire,  a  building  which  ruffianly 
hands  once  pierced  with  volleys  of  bullets,  hoping 
to  destroy  the  unoffending  inmates,  and  to  which 
other  evil  hands  afterward  applied  the  firebrand, 
sweeping  it  quite  away.  Grass  and  bushes  now 
cover  the  site  it  formerly  occupied,  and  the  mis- 
sionary family  make  the  best  they  can  of  a  little 
cottage,  neither  commodious  nor  healthy,  which 
has  been  hired  until  more  suitable  provision  can 
be   made.      And    after   a  while    the    opportunity 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks.  325 

arrives.  "The  Cloisters,"  which  is  the  rector's 
own  private  property,  is  announced  to  be  for  sale. 
The  cool  and  healthy  situation  it  occupies,  far 
above  the  unwholesome  influences  which  abound 
below,  and  render  a  residence  near  the  sea  so 
unhealthy  for  Europeans,  marks  it  out  as  a  most 
desirable  location  for  the  mission  house.  After 
due  deliberation  it  is  resolved  to  effect  the  pur- 
chase. 

It  has  to  be  done  quietly  and  warily,  for  there 
is  yet  enough  of  the  old  persecuting  spirit  left  in 
some  quarters  to  render  it  probable  that  opposi- 
tion will  be  made  to  any  attempt  to  have  those 
premises  conveyed  for  missionary  uses.  But  a 
friend  comes  forward  to  transact  the  business ; 
the  purchase  is  completed,  and  the  missionary 
family  takes  possession  of  "  The  Cloisters  "  as  a 
home.  There  is  one  missionary  on  the  committee 
to  which  the  management  of  this  business  has 
been  confided — the  writer  of  these  pages — who 
has  marked  with  wonder  and  gratitude,  and  not 
unfrequently  with  awe,  the  hand  of  the  Lord  in 
what  has  come  to  pass.  As  he  moves  about  those 
grounds  at  "  The  Cloisters,"  he  recalls  deeds  of 
cruel  severity  which  have  been  enacted  there. 
Proceeding  from  room  to  room,  thoughts  are 
awakened  in  his  breast  of  the  unhallowed  combi- 
nations that  have  been  formed  and  the  schemes 
of  evil  which  have  originated  beneath  that  roof. 
And  then,  as  he  looks  abroad  on  the  splendid 
panoramic  scene  that  hill  commands,  his  eye  rest- 
ing first  upon   the  restored  sanctuaries  beneath, 


326        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  then  upon  the  spot  where  the  sea  engulfed  its 
prey,  and  filled  with  desolation  and  grief  the  home 
of  him  who  had  made  others  desolate,  he  sees  how 
easy  it  is  for  the  Ruler  of  all  things  to  make  the 
devices  of  opposers  and  persecutors  to  be  of  none 
effect. 

But  that  which  impresses  his  mind  above  all  is 
the  striking  manifestation  of  retributive  providence 
in  the  fact  of  his  being  upon  that  spot,  and  for  such 
a  purpose,  to  take  possession  of  that  property,  and 
adapt  it  to  missionary  uses.  This  is  the  residence 
of  the  man,  and  here  he  had  his  nest  for  many 
years,  who,  in  bitter  opposition  to  those  who  were 
doing  the  Lord's  work,  suggested  the  evil  counsel, 
"  Get  rid  of  the  rooks  by  destroying  their  nests." 
Out  of  that  very  door  he  passed  to  the  meeting 
where  his  evil  counsel  prevailed.  By  a  wondrous 
series  of  providential  dealings,  terribly  fraught  with 
judgment,  but  richly  mingled  with  mercy,  a  Di- 
vine hand  has  humbled  the  offender,  driven  him 
from  his  own  nest,  and  sent  him  forth  a  wretched 
wanderer.  Now  God  has  given  the  nest  to  those 
whom  the  proud  man  scornfully  denounced  as 
rooks,  and  who  were  left  shelterless  by  his  means. 
These  despised  ones  are  made  to  occupy  the  very 
apartments  where,  encouraging  only  thoughts  of 
evil,  he  nestled  with  his  young,  and  from  which 
Jehovah  in  righteous  anger  took  them  to  perish 
before  the  doting  father's  eyes.  Yes,  the  Holy 
and  the  Just  One  has  acted  in  righteous  retribu- 
tion in  giving  to  the  injured  the  nest  of  him  who 
caused  them  to  be  cast  out  of  their  homes,  and 


Driving  Away  the  Rooks,  327 

left  without  a  shelter,  by  giving  the  Ahithophel- 
like  counsel,  "  If  you  want  to  get  rid  of  the  rooks 
you  must  destroy  their  nests." 

N.  B. — "  The  Cloisters  "  has  been  the  residence 
of  the  Wesleyan  mission  family  at  St.  Ann's  Bay 
for  nearly  thirty  years. 


328         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XVI. 

Father  and  Son. 

How  terrible  is  passion !  how  our  reason 
Falls  down  before  it !  while  the  tortured  frame, 
Like  a  ship  dash''d  by  fierce  encount'rlng  tides, 
And  of  her  pilot  spoiled,  drives  round  and  round, 
The  sport  of  wind  and  wave. — Barfokd. 

'^  OTLT  was  a  melancholy  termination  to  a  very 
AHl  bad  life,"  was  the  remark  of  a  friend  to  me, 
referring  to  a  paragraph  in  the  columns  of 
one  of  the  Jamaica  newspapers  which  he  then 
held  in  his  hand.  This  was  not  long  after  the 
time  when  the  apprenticeship  system  had  super- 
seded in  that  land  the  cruel  system  of  bondage 
which  was  so  rapidly  diminishing  the  slave  popu- 
lation as  to  threaten  the  extinction  of  the  op- 
pressed race  in  a  very  few  years. 

The  person  to  whom  this  remark  applied  had 
been  a  prominent  actor  in  those  events  which 
marked  the  history  of  the  colony  at  that  period, 
especially  those  that  had  reference  to  the  main- 
tenance of  slavery  and  the  persecution  of  Chris- 
tian missionaries.  And  now,  in  the  prime  of  lusty, 
vigorous  life,  like  many  others  who  had  lifted  up 
unholy  hands  against  the  cause  of  Christ  and 
sought  to  hinder  the  spread  of  his  truth,  he  had 
suddenly  dropped  into  the   grave  by  a  casualty 


Father  and  Son.  329 

which  to  those  who  regarded  not  the  work  of  the 
Lord,  nor  considered  the  operation  of  his  hands, 
was  only  an  accident.  But  to  many  who  knew  the 
man  and  his  history,  and  remembered  how  the 
face  of  the  Lord  is  against  them  that  do  evil,  the 
occurrence  wore  a  different  aspect,  and  was  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  instances  of  providential 
retribution  in  which  the  hand  of  the  Lord  had, 
within  a  few  brief  months,  swept  away  from  life 
many  of  those  who  had  banded  together  to  perse- 
cute his  servants,  and  to  banish  religion  and  Chris- 
tian instruction  from  the  land. 

The  Hon.  Philip  B.  began  life  in  Jamaica  as  a 
journeyman  stone-mason,  having  emigrated  from 
England  to  find  employment,  where  he  hoped 
to  meet  with  less  of  competition,  and  a  more  lib- 
eral remuneration  of  his  toil,  than  in  his  native 
land.  He  was  not  disappointed.  A  white  man, 
and  a  skilled  artisan,  he  soon  found  employment 
on  the  estates  of  a  larg.e  proprietor  as  head  mason, 
with  a  large  slave-gang  placed  under  his  direction. 
In  the  course  of  time,  partly  by  looking  well  after 
his  own  interests,  and  partly  by  marriage  with  a 
lady  entitled  to  property,  he  became  himself  the 
owner  of  slaves,  and  a  landed  proprietor  on  such 
a  scale  as  enabled  him  to  mingle  with  the  proud 
magnates  of  the  country,  and  take  his  place  in  the 
legislative  Assembly.  There  he  was  always  to  be 
found  giving  his  support  to  measures  of  intolerance 
and  oppression,  while  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
licentious  and  vicious  habits  sure  to  prevail  in  a 
country  where  slavery  has  its  home. 


330         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Possessing  but  a  slender  portion  of  ability,  he 
could  in  public  life  only  follow  the  leading  of 
others,  and  was  invariably  found  devoting  such 
influence  as  he  could  wield  to  the  side  of  evil. 
For  some  years  every  act  of  the  Jamaica  Legisla- 
ture that  was  calculated  to  increase  the  burden  of 
oppression  under  which  the  toil-worn  slave  was 
made  to  groan,  or  that  was  intended  to  interpose 
obstacles  to  the  benevolent  labors  of  the  Christian 
missionary,  was  sustained  by  his  vote.  All  the 
seditious  movements  of  the  planters,  and  their 
threats  of  renouncing  their  allegiance  to  the  Brit- 
ish crown,  were  warmly  seconded  by  him.  He 
resisted  to  the  last  the  reasonable  and  equitable 
proposal  to  remove  the  legal  disabilities  under 
which  the  free  colored  and  black  population  had 
always  been  oppressed  and  degraded,  and  refused 
to  yield  to  those  who,  notwithstanding  their  com- 
plexion, were  in  numerous  instances  vastly  his  su- 
periors in  moral  worth  and  intellectual  power  and 
acquirements,  equal  rights  and  privileges.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  legislative  committee  which, 
by  suppressing  and  garbling  evidence,  had  sought 
to  fix  upon  missionaries  the  charge  of  instigating 
the  negro  insurrection  of  1831-2,  occasioned,  in 
truth,  by  the  seditious  folly  and  violence  of  the 
planters  themselves,  and  destined,  in  the  wise  and 
good  providence  of  God,  to  give  the  death-blow 
to  human  slavery  in  the  British  empire.  He  was 
always  the  weak,  willing  tool  of  oppression  and 
intolerance,  a  man  whose  public  life  was  truckling 
and  time-serving  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 


Father  mid  Son.  331 

He  had  one  son  possessing  a  claim  to  legitimacy, 
and  of  the  orthodox  European  complexion,  whom 
his  father  destined  for  the  church,  with  a  view  to 
his  being  ultimately  installed  in  one  of  the  sung 
rectories  of  the  island,  and  possibly  in  a  well- 
endowed  archdeaconry  to  which,  backed  by  his 
father's  influence  as  a  member  of  the  Colonial 
Legislature,  he  might  not  unreasonably  aspire. 
While  the  son  was  absent  from  home  receiving  his 
education,  his  mother  died.  During  her  life-time 
the  husband  and  father  had,  outwardly  at  least, 
paid  some  regard  to  the  decencies  and  proprieties 
of  wedded  life  ;  but  when  the  grave  closed  over 
her  remains,  all  restraint  was  cast  off,  and  Mr.  B. 
gave  himself  up  again,  as  he  had  done  before, 
to  the  vicious  and  demoralizing  practices  which 
always  accompany  slavery.  When  the  son  arrived 
at  his  old  home  in  holy  orders,  it  was  to  find  a 
state  of  things  prevailing  under  his  father's  roof 
that  gave  a  rude  and  painful  shock  to  the  more 
refined  and  honorable  sentiments  awakened  with- 
in him  during  his  educational  course,  amid  the 
elevating  and  hallowing  influences  of  a  Christian 
land. 

He  shut  his  eyes,  as  far  as  possible,  to  the  faults 
of  his  sire,  and  interfered  only  with  gentle  re- 
monstrances when  rude  and  noisy  revels,  and  the 
excesses  of  a  brutal  intemperance,  rendered  it  im- 
possible to  look  on  in  unbroken  silence.  These 
were  listened  to  at  first  without  resentment ;  but, 
on  repetition,  were  spurned  as  an  impertinent  in- 
terference with  matters  that  did  not  concern  him, 


332         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  gradually  led  to  angry  altercation.  Frequent- 
ly he  had  to  withdraw  from  his  father's  table  to 
avoid  being  associated  therewith  one,  the  presence 
of  whom  he  could  not  but  regard  as  an  insult  to 
the  memory  of  a  mother  whose  virtues  and  tender 
love  were  his  most  cherished  recollections.  He 
hoped  that  his  silent  withdrawal  from  such  a  pres- 
ence would  be  a  sufficient  protest  against  the  out- 
rage to  propriety  it  involved,  and  that  it  would 
avail  to  correct  the  evil,  little  apprehensive  of 
the  fatal  consequences  to  which  it  was  destined  to 
lead. 

On  one  of  these  occasions,  when  he  rose  to  leave 
the  untasted  morning  meal,  his  father  interposed, 
and  commanded  him  to  resume  his  seat.  He 
begged  to  be  excused,  and,  with  all  respect  to  his 
father,  stated  as  his  reason  for  wishing  to  withdraw 
that  it  would  both  compromise  his  self-respect  as 
a  minister  of  Christ,  and  dishonor  the  memory  of 
his  virtuous  mother,  to  eat  at  his  father's  table 
with  such  a  companion  as  he  had  thought  fit  to 
introduce  there.  Exasperated  beyond  all  self- 
control  by  this  plain  dealing  on  the  part  of  his 
son,  Mr.  B.  struck  a  violent  blow  at  the  mouth 
from  whence  the  reproving  words  had  issued, 
causing  a  copious  flow  of  blood  ;  and  followed  the 
young  man  with  bitter  curses  and  reviling  as  he 
retired,  without  a  word  of  reply,  to  his  own  room. 
It  was  a  fatal  blow ;  not  to  him  who  received,  but 
to  him  who  gave  it.  The  father  found,  after  his 
son  left  the  room,  that  in  his  blind  fury  he 
had  injured  his  own  hand  against  the  teeth  of  the 


Father  ajtd  Son.  333 

young  man,  and  that  blood  was  flowing  from  the 
wound.  As  it  was  merely  a  scratch,  he  thought 
nothing  of  it.  But  after  a  few  hours  the  slight 
wound  began  to  exhibit  an  angry  appearance,  and 
the  inflammation  increased  and  spread  up  the  arm. 
Medical  treatment  was  resorted  to,  but  it  failed  to 
check  the  progress  of  the  evil.  Vicious  excesses 
had  corrupted  his  blood,  and  all  the  appliances  of 
science  were  baffled.  Gangrene,  mortification, 
death,  came  on  in  rapid  succession,  and  in  about 
three  days  after  the  fatal  altercation  the  immortal 
spirit  passed  to  its  unseen  and  unchanging  destiny  : 
and  another  was  added  to  the  long  catalogue  of 
those  remarkable  casualties  through  which  so 
many  of  the  wrong-doers  of  those  days  were 
swept,  in  the  midst  of  life  and  strength,  to  an 
early  grave  by  a  violent  death,  giving  fearful 
significance  to  the  impressive  record  of  Holy 
Writ,  "  He  ordaineth  his  arrows  against  the  per- 
secutors." 


334         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XVII. 

The  Kidnapped  Noble. 

Thus  Bpurn'd,  degraded,  trampled,  and  oppress' d. 

The  negro  exile  langulsh'd  in  the  west, 

With  nothing  left  of  life  but  bated  breath, 

And  not  a  hope  except  the  hope  in  death, 

To  fly  forever  from  the  Creole  strand. 

And  dwell  a  freeman  in  his  father's  land. — Montqomeey. 

tRUTH  is  sometimes  stranger  than  fiction. 
The  faithful  delineation  of  real  occurrences 
will  sometimes  produce  a  picture  which  the 
boldest  writer  of  romance  would  scarcely  venture 
to  indite,  if  it  were  the  mere  creation  of  his  fancy. 
The  legitimate  boundaries  of  truth  are  sufficiently 
comprehensive  to  contain  much  that  is  wonderful 
and  apparently  improbable.  The  vicissitudes  and 
sufferings  of  many  a  life  in  the  realm  of  slavedom 
would  rival,  in  startling  incidents  and  thrilling  in- 
terest, those  tales  of  the  imagination  which  have 
harrowed  the  feelings  and  powerfully  stirred  up 
the  sensibilities  of  a  multitude  of  persons,  who 
never  knew  what  it  was  to  drop  a  tear  of  sympathy 
over  the  real  sufferings  of  fellow-creatures  enduring 
a  lot  of  constant  anguish  and  woe.  The  following 
narrative  contains  nothing  of  the  merely  imaginary  ; 
it  is  a  tale  of  real  life. 

When    the  writer   first  arrived  in   Jamaica,   in 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  335 

1 83 1,  there  was  in  the  society  at  Wesley  Chapel, 
Kingston,  then  under  the  pastoral  care  of  the 
Rev.  Peter  Duncan,  a  black  man  known  by  the 
^name  of  Edward  Donlan.  He  was  a  slave  be- 
longing to  a  builder  in  large  business  in  the  city, 
whose  name  was  Anderson,  and  who  had  the  repu- 
tation of  being  a  kind  and  indulgent  master.  Mr. 
Anderson  held  a  large  ownership  in  the  sinews 
and  muscles  of  men,  women,  and  children.  His 
extensive  business  required  that  he  should  have 
several  large  slave-gangs  to  fill  the  various  de- 
partments of  labor  comprehended  in  the  numerous 
building  contracts  into  which  he  entered.  Ed- 
ward Donlan,  though  Anderson's  slave,  belonged 
to  none  of  these  laboring  gangs.  He  was  neither 
carpenter  nor  mason,  nor  was  he  an  artisan  of  any 
kind.  He  occupied  the  position  of  a  clerk  or  ac- 
countant, and  kept  all  the  books  pertaining  to  the 
b'lisiness,  which  his  master,  who  had  risen  from  a 
humble  position  in  life,  was  unable  to  keep  him- 
self. It  was  one  of  those  cases  in  which  the 
slave  was  in  intellectual  power  and  acquirements 
superior  to  the  man  who  claimed  him  as  his 
''''property." 

Donlan  was  for  some  years  united  to  the  Meth- 
odist Society,  and  was  one  of  the  most  steady  and 
consistent  members  of  the  class  to  which  he  be- 
longed. Every  Sabbath  morning  at  an  early  hour 
he  might  be  seen  in  the  chapel,  earnestly  and 
humbly  listening  to  the  Christian  counsels 
addressed  to  him  by  his  class-leader.  His  skin 
was   of  the   darkest    African   type — a    pure   jet. 


336  Romance  Without  Fiction, 

From  his  eye  gleamed  the  light  of  an  intellect 
whose  powers  had  been  awakened  and  developed, 
as  they  only  can  be,  by  a  process  of  education. 
But  there  was  always  to  be  perceived  about  him 
an  air  of  sadness  approaching  to  melancholy.  He 
was  scarcely  ever  seen  to  smile,  and  moved  about 
with  a  degree  of  sedateness  and  gravity  that  ap- 
peared to  indicate  a  load  of  sorrow  always  resting 
upon  the  mind.  During  religious  worship  he  sat  and 
listened  with  devout  attention,  but  seemed  not  to 
join  in  the  singing  ;  or,  if  he  did  so  at  all,  it  was  in  a 
very  quiet  and  subdued  manner.  His  sorrowful  de- 
portment, combined  with  the  superior  intelligence 
indicated  both  in  his  countenance  and  conversa- 
tion, could  not  fail  to  arrest  the  attention  of  those 
whose  pastoral  duty  required  them,  once  in  every 
quarter  of  the  year,  to  speak  with  him  on  matters 
relating  to  the  welfare  of  his  soul,  and  give  him 
religious  counsel  and  advice.  When  questioned 
concerning  his  former  history,  he  unfolded  a  tale 
of  painful  vicissitudes  that  sufficiently  accounted 
for  the  gloom  and  sadness  by  which  he  was  gener- 
ally characterized.  Born  of  parents  who  occupied 
an  exalted  position  in  his  native  land,  he  had  fall- 
en into  the  hands  of  the  man-stealer  :  and  forcibly 
borne  away  from  friends  and  home,  he  had,  after 
suffering  all  the  horrors  of  the  middle  passage, 
been  consigned  to  the  misery  and  degradation  of 
slavery  in  a  foreign  land. 

The  African  name  of  Edward  Donlan  was  Abou 
Beer  Sadiki.  He  was  born  in  Timbuctoo,  and 
brought   up   in   Geneh.     His   father's   name  was 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  337 

Kara  Mousa,  Scheriff  j  the  latter  word  denoting, 
"  of  a  noble  family."  His  grandfather  lived  in  the 
country  of  Timbuctoo  and  Geneh,  and  was  the 
son  of  Ibrahim,  the  founder  of  his  race  in  the 
country  of  Geneh.  His  father  had  four  brothers, 
named  Aderiza,  Abdriman,  Mahomet,  and  Abou 
Beer.  After  the  death  of  his  grandfather,  these 
uncles  of  his  disagreed  among  themselves  and 
were  scattered  in  different  parts  of  Soudan. 
Aderiza  went  to  the  country  of  Marsina,  where  he 
dwelt  for  a  long  time ;  after  that  he  removed  over 
the  river  and  dwelt  in  Geneh,  and  married  a 
daughter  of  Maroulhaide  Abou  Beer.  Abdriman 
went  to  the  country  of  Cong,  and  married  the 
daughter  of  Samer  Ali,  the  lord  of  that  land. 
Mahomet  went  to  the  country  of  Gonnah,  and 
married  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  Gonnah. 
Abou  Beer  remained  in  the  country  of  Timbuctoo. 
His  father,  Kara  Mousa,  frequently  traveled  to 
the  country  of  Cassina  and  Bournoo,  where  he 
married.  He  returned  with  his  wife  to  Timbuc- 
too, and  there  Abou  Beer  Sadiki  was  born. 

Great  attention  was  paid  to  his  education  when 
he  was  a  boy.  When  he  was  about  two  years  old, 
his  father  thought  much  about  his  brothers,  and 
grieved  over  the  family  dissensions  that  had 
caused  their  separation ;  and  he  resolved  to  visit 
them,  and  renew  the  friendly  intercourse  so  pain- 
fully interrupted.  Accompanied  by  a  numerous 
retinue  of  servants,  the  family  of  Kara  Mousa  first 
took  their  journey  to  Geneh.  From  thence  they 
proceeded  to  Bong,  and  thence  to  Gonnah,  where 


338         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

they  took  up  their  abode  and  remained  for  the 
purpose  of  trade.  In  Gonnah  the  servants  (slaves) 
gathered  a  quantity  of  gold  for  their  master  ;  for 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  gold  obtained  in  that 
country,  from  the  wilderness  down  to  the  river- 
side, also  from  the  rocks.  They  crush  the  stones 
to  dust,  and  put  them  into  a  vessel  of  water,  when 
the  gold  separates  and  sinks  down,  and  the  dust 
floats.  Then  they  purify  the  metal  and  make  it 
ready  for  use.  During  his  residence  in  that  coun- 
try his  father  collected  a  large  quantity  of  gold 
and  silver,  some  of  which  he  sent  to  his  father- 
in-law,  Ali  Aga  Mahomed  Tassere,  in  the  country 
of  Bournoo  and  Cassina.  He  also  sent,  as  a  pres- 
ent, horses,  mules,  and  rich  silks,  obtained  from 
Egypt. 

While  they  were  residing  in  Gonnah,  his  father 
caught  the  bad  fever  and  died,  and  was  buried 
there.  All  this  took  place  while  he,  Abou  Beer 
Sadiki,  was  a  young  child ;  and  these  particulars 
concerning  his  family  he  obtained  from  his  uncles. 
After  his  father's  death  he  returned  to  Timbuctoo. 
He  acquired  the  knowledge  of  the  Alcoran  in 
Gonnah,  where  there  were  many  teachers  for  young 
people.  The  names  of  the  several  masters  from 
whom  he  received  instruction  were  Abondonlaki, 
a  son  of  Ali  Ago ;  Mahomed  Wadiwahoo ;  Ma- 
homed Ali  Mustapha;  Ibrahim  son  of  Yussuf,  a 
native  ;  and  Ibrahim  son  of  Abon  Nassau  from 
Footatoroo.  These  were  all  under  the  direction 
of  a  head  master,  the  son  of  Ali  Aga  Mahomed 
Tuffosere.     It  was  thus  he  had  received  an  educa- 


The  Kid) lapped  Noble.  339 

tion  such  as  only  the  members  of  noble  families 
could  aspire  to,  and  which  was  intended  to  pre- 
pare him  to  take  his  place  among  the  highest 
class  of  people  in  his  own  country.  Instead  of 
that  he  had  been  violently  torn  away  from  his 
home  and  sunk  into  the  miserable  condition  of  a 
slave,  subject  absolutely  to  the  will  of  another,  and 
not  able  to  call  his  time  or  his  body  or  his  soul  his 
own. 

About  five  years  after  the  death  of  his  father, 
he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  go  to  Gonnah  and  visit 
his  father's  grave.  His  teacher,  who  had  himself 
and  several  other  youths  in  charge,  not  only  gave 
his  consent,  but  volunteered  to  accompany  him  on 
the  journey  to  Gonnah,  and  also  to  take  with  him 
other  scholars,  all  of  whom  belonged  to  noble 
families,  to  bear  them  company.  After  much 
fatigue  they  arrived  at  Cong,  and  from  thence 
went  on  to  Gonnah,  "where,"  he  said,  "we 
stopped  two  years,  as  we  considered  the  place 
a  home,  and  we  had  a  good  deal  of  property 
there." 

About  two  years  after  their  arrival   in  Gonnah 

the  teacher  had  occasion    to  take  fi    journey  to 

Agi,  leaving  all  his  pupils  in  the  care  of  Abou 

Beer    Sadiki's   uncle   at    Gonnah.     Very    shortly 

after  his  departure,  a  war  unexpectedly  broke  out 

between  Abdengara,  the  king  of  Buntuco,  and  the 

king    of    Gonnah.     The    latter    monarch    being 

worsted  in   the  conflict,  Abdengara's  army,  after 

great  slaughter,  took  possession  of  the  capital  or 

chief  town  of  Gonnah.     Some  of  the  inhabitants 
22 


340         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

of  the  captured  town  fled,  and  endeavored  to  make 
their  escape  to  Cong;  but  they  failed  in  the 
attempt,  and  were  captured  by  the  victorious 
party.  Among  the  unfortunate  ones  was  Abou 
Beer  Sadiki,  with  several  of  his  fellow-students. 
The  prisoners  were  treated  Avith  great  harshness 
by  their  conquerors.  Abou  Beer  Sadiki  was 
stripped,  and  firmly  tied  with  a  cord  to  prevent 
his  escape  ;  and  then,  with  a  heavy  load  which  he 
was  compelled  to  carry,  was  marched  with  others 
of  his  fellow-captives  into  the  country  of  Buntuco. 
From  thence,  with  many  unhappy  ones  like  him- 
self, he  was  taken  to  Cumasi,  where  the  king  of 
Ashanti  reigned.  Subsequently  he  was  conducted 
first  to  Assicuma,  thence  to  Agimaca,  which  is  the 
country  of  the  Fantees,  and  from  thence  to  the 
town  of  Dago,  by  the  seaside.  All  the  way,  in 
these  long  journeys,  he  had  to  travel  on  foot, 
bearing  a  heavy  burden  on  his  head,  and  a  still 
heavier  one  on  his  heart :  for  it  was  a  very 
great  sorrow  to  him  thus  to  be  torn  away  from  his 
own  country,  and  from  all  his  beloved  kindred  and 
friends. 

At  Dago  he  was  "  sold  to  the  Christians !  " 
What  a  sad  dishonor  to  Christianity  that  men 
bearing  this  sacred  designation  should  touch  a 
traffic  founded  in  robbery  and  murder  and  com- 
prehending within  itself  all  kinds  of  crime  and 
wickedness  !  Yet  so  it  was.  "  Sold  to  the  Chris- 
tians," to  be  degraded,  plundered,  flogged,  and 
worked  into  the  grave,  has  been  the  sad  fate 
of  untold   millions  of    Africa's    children !     Poor 


Tlie  Kidnapped  Noble.  341 

broken-hearted  Abou  was  purchased  on  the  coast 
by  the  captain  of  one  of  the  slave-ships,  and  deliv- 
ered over  to  the  care  of  the  sailors,  Avith  others  who 
shared  his  wretchedness.  The  boat  immediately 
pushed  off,  and  he  was  soon  on  board  one  of  those 
floating  hells  over  which  for  so  many  years  waved 
the  ensign  of  Britain,  protecting  the  most  horrible 
wickedness  ever  perpetrated  on  this  sin-stained 
globe. 

The  slave-ship  !  Think  of  a  vessel  built  for 
quick  sailing,  and  without  the  slightest  reference 
to  the  comfort  of  the  poor  creatures  she  is  to  re- 
ceive as  cargo !  Then  think  of  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred human  beings  huddled  together,  without  any 
regard  to  the  distinction  of  sexes,  and  so  closely 
stowed  that  there  is  no  possibility  of  their  lying 
down  or  changing  their  position  night  or  day. 
They  are  carried  in  this  way  a  voyage  of  two  or 
three  months'  duration,  their  only  relief  being  the 
death  of,  perhaps,  a  fourth  of  the  cargo,  the 
removal  of  their  dead  bodies — cruelly  and  foully 
murdered — thus  affording  to  the  survivors  a  little 
more  room  to  move  their  cramped  and  wasted  limbs. 

It  was  into  one  of  these  horrible  receptacles  of 
stolen  human  cargo  that  this  youth — for  he  had 
not  yet  ripened  into  manhood — born  of  the  no- 
blest in  the  land,  was  received.  It  is  not  at  all  sur- 
prising that  one  who  became  acquainted  with  the 
sufferer  and  his  history  after  he  had  spent  thirty 
years  in  wretched  slavery,  and  who  took  a  lively 
interest  in  measures  to  obtain  his  freedom  from 
bondage,  and  get  him  returned  to  his  own  native 


342         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Africa,  should  express  himself  in  such  language  a« 
the  following : 

"  Without  going  into  any  discussion  of  an  anti- 
slavery  description,  by  what  name  under  heaven 
that  is  compatible  with  moderation,  that  is  musical 
to  ears  polite,  must  that  system  be  called  which 
sanctioned  the  stealing  away  of  a  person  like  this, 
as  much  a  nobleman  in  his  own  country  as  any 
titled  chief  is  in  ours,  and  in  his  way,  without  dis- 
paragement to  the  English  noble,  as  suitably  edu- 
cated for  his  rank  ?  Fancy  one  of  the  scions  of 
our  nobility,  a  son  of  our  war-chiefs — Lord  Lon- 
donderry for  example — educated  at  Oxford,  and, 
in  the  course  of  his  subsequent  travels,  unfortu- 
nately falling  into  the  hands  of  African  robbers, 
and  being  carried  into  bondage.  Fancy  the  poor 
youth  marched  in  the  common  slave-coffle  to  the 
first  market-place  on  the  coast.  He  is  exposed 
for  sale.  Nobody  inquires  whether  he  is  a  patri- 
cian or  a  plebeian ;  nobody  cares  whether  he  is  ig- 
norant or  enlightened  :  it  is  enough  that  he  has 
thews  and  sinews  for  a  life  of  labor  without  re- 
ward. Follow  him  to  the  slave-ship.  He  survives 
the  passage,  and  has  seen  the  fifth  part  of  his  com- 
rades perish  on  the  voyage.  He  is  landed  on 
some  distant  island,  where  he  is  doomed  to  hope- 
less, interminable  slavery.  The  brutal  scramble 
for  the  slaves  has  ceased  ;  he  is  dragged  away  by 
his  new  master,  but  not  before  he  is  branded  with 
a  heated  iron,  which  may  only  sear  his  flesh,  while 
the  iron  brand  of  slavery — the  burning  thought  of 
endless  bondage — enters  into  his  soul." 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  343 

After  three  months  of  inconceivable  wretched- 
ness at  sea,  the  vessel  to  which  Abou  Beer  had 
been  consigned  arrived  at  Kingston,  Jamaica, 
where  the  horrible  traffic  in  human  beings  was 
still  flourishing.  It  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  poor 
youth  Abou  to  become  the  slave  of  Mr.  Anderson, 
the  builder,  who  never  treated  him  with  harshness 
or  cruelty.  But  his  soul  was  always  bowed  down 
to  the  earth  with  the  sense  of  unutterable  degra- 
dation and  wrong — wrong  to  which  he  could  see 
no  termination  in  this  life.  There  was  no  pros- 
pect before  him  but  of  incessant  misery  and  suf- 
fering and  unrequited  toil,  until  death  should 
bring  the  only  relief  that  appeared  to  be  possible. 

In  his  intercourse  with  his  fellow-slaves  Edward 
Donlan — for  such  was  the  name  that  had  been 
bestowed  upon  him  by  his  owner — discovered  that 
some  of  those  with  whom  he  was  associated  de- 
rived great  comfort,  in  their  sorrowful  and  de- 
graded condition,  from  attending  upon  the  ordi- 
nances of  religion  at  the  Methodist  chapel. 
Hearing  them  sing  the  hymns  they  learned  there, 
and  speak  of  the  grand  truths  proclaimed  by  the 
ministers,  first  induced  him  to  go  and  hear  for 
himself  the  preaching  of  which  others  were  so  fre- 
quently talking  in  his  presence.  He  had  learned 
the  English  language  sufficiently  to  enable  him  to 
understand  what  he  heard  from  the  pulpit  better 
than  many  others,  and  he  did  not  hear  in  vain. 
His  mind  and  heart  were  brought  ui^er  the  in- 
fluence of  Gospel  truth  to  some  extent,  and  he 
united  himself  with  the  Church,  enjoying  a  com- 


■  .) 

/ 


344         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

fortable  hope  of  rest  and  life  in  the  better  world 
to  come. 

But  he  never  came  so  much  under  the  power  of 
religion  as  entirely  to  overcome  the  sorrow  in- 
duced by  the  great  and  terrible  change  that  had 
come  upon  him,  and  banish  the  fondly  cherished 
recollections  of  his  native  land,  and  the  kindred 
and  friends  from  whom  he  had  been  so  cruelly 
severed.  He  was  very  punctual  in  attending  re- 
ligious ordinances  whenever  his  enslaved  condition 
permitted  him  to  do  so,  and  he  always  entered 
devoutly  and  intelligently  into  the  services  of  the 
sanctuary,  but  he  was  the  reverse  of  demonstrative 
in  all  things  that  pertained  to  religion.  It  was 
only  when  he  was  questioned  by  his  class-leader 
or  minister  that  he  spoke  of  his  religious  views  and 
feelings.  Then  he  would  dwell  upon  the  great 
comfort  which  religion  brought  to  his  wounded 
spirit,  and  tell  how  he  was  looking  to  heaven  as 
the  rest  from  toil  and  trouble  which  God  hath 
prepared  for  them  that  love  him.  Speaking  once 
in  sorrowful  accents  of  his  unhappy  lot  as  a  slave, 
he  said,  "  I  have  none  to  thank  but  those  that 
brought  me  here.  But  praise  be  to  God,  who  has 
every  thing  in  his  power  to  do  as  he  thinks  good, 
and  no  man  can  remove  whatever  burden  he 
chooses  to  put  on  us.  Nothing  shall  fall  on  us 
except  what  he  shall  ordain.  He  is  our  Lord, 
and  let  all  that  believe  in  him  put  their  trust  in 
him."  . 

On   another  occasion,  speaking  of  his  parents 
and    kindred,    and    referring   to    the    Mussulman 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  345 

belief  and  practice,  he  said,  "  They  do  not  drink 
wine  nor  spirits,  as  it  is  held  an  abomination  so  to 
do.  They  do  not  associate  with  any  that  worship 
idols  or  profane  the  Lord's  name,  or  do  dishonor 
to  their  parents,  or  commit  murder,  or  bear  false 
witness,  or  who  are  covetous,  proud,  or  boastful. 
They  were  particularly  careful  in  the  education  of 
their  children,  and  in  their  behavior.  But  I  am 
lost  to  all  these  advantages.  Since  my  bondage  I 
am  become  corrupt,  and  I  beg  Almighty  God  to 
lead  me  into  the  path  that  is  proper  for  me,  for  he 
alone  knows  the  secrets  of  my  heart,  and  what  I 
am  in  need  of." 

Soon  after  he  came  into  Mr.  Anderson's  posses- 
sion it  was  discovered  that  he  was  not  the  dull, 
ignorant  being  that  many  of  his  companions  in 
bondage  were.  At  first  he  was  put  to  perform  any 
menial  duties  in  which  his  services  happened  to 
be  required  about  the  premises  of  his  master;  but 
accident  brought  to  light  the  fact  that  the  young 
African  was  very  skillful  in  the  use  of  the  pen,  and 
clever  in  all  questions  of  figures,  solving  difiicult 
arithmetical  problems  with  great  facility.  He  was 
observed  to  be  frequently  engaged  in  writing,  but 
it  was  in  characters  that  none  about  him  could 
understand.  When  he  had  learned  to  speak  the 
language  of  the  country  he  had  been  brought  to, 
and  could  enter  into  conversation  with  those  about 
him,  although  he  volunteered  no  information,  yet, 
in  answer  to  inquiries  addressed  to  him,  it  be- 
came known  that  he  had  been  a  person  of  some 
consideration  in  his  own  country,  and  had  been 


346        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

favored  with  educational  advantages  of  a  superior 
kind. 

The  master  into  whose  hands  he  had  fallen  was 
a  rising  man  in  the  country.  His  business,  small 
at  first,  was  assuming  greatly  enlarged  proportions. 
Unable  himself,  having  been  favored  with  slender 
advantages  of  education  in  his  early  days,  to  do 
much  in  the  way  of  book-keeping,  he  soon  began 
to  avail  himself  of  the  superior  knowledge  and 
ability  possessed  by  his  slave,  Edward  Donlan, 
and  the  management  of  all  the  books  and  accounts 
pertaining  to  the  business  gradually  fell  into  his 
hands.  Although  he  understood  the  English  lan- 
guage, and  could  speak  it  correctly,  he  could  not 
so  readily  write  it ;  but  being  perfectly  famil- 
iar with  Arabic,  and  able  to  write  it  in  beautiful 
style,  he  adopted  the  plan  of  keeping  all  his  mas- 
ter's books  and  accounts  in  that  language.  For 
many  years  the  slave  knew  far  more  of  the  details 
of  the  business  than  the  master  himself.  The 
books  were  sometimes  exhibited  to  strangers  as  a 
curiosity,  and  many  marveled  at  their  beauty,  re- 
garding with  pitying  eyes  the  dark,  sorrowful- 
looking  man  who  was  capable  of  such  handiwork. 
When  the  accounts  had  to  be  sent  out  to  parties 
indebted  to  the  firm,  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  the 
slave-clerk,  with  the  assistance  of  an  amanuensis, 
to  turn  the  Arabic  into  English.  Thus,  for  thirty 
years,  the  large  growing  business  went  on,  perfect 
confidence  existing  between  the  master  and  his 
slave. 

For  all  this  faithful  and  valuable  service  what 


TJie  Kidnapped  Noble.  347 

did  the  young  African  noble  receive  in  the  way  of 
remuneration  ?  Just  what  was  given  to  those  who 
had  no  ability  for  any  thing  but  to  wield  the  hoe 
— a  poor  comfortless  shelter  in  the  negro  quarters, 
a  suit  or  two  of  coarse  garments  in  the  year,  and  a 
bare  supply  of  the  commonest  kind  of  food ;  in 
fact,  the  wages  of  a  horse,  just  what  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  sustain  life,  and  keep  him  up 
to  the  duty  that  his  master's  interests  required  at 
his  hands.  True,  Mr.  Anderson  did  not  superadd 
to  all  this,  as  many  slaveholders  did,  the  frequent 
application  of  the  scourge  and  the  gyves,  and  the 
interposition  of  his  authority  to  keep  his  slave 
from  obtaining  religious  instruction,  and  hinder 
his  praying  and  breathing  his  sorrows  to  the 
throne  of  God.  Nor  did  he  do  this  with  any  of 
his  slaves.  Therefore  Mr.  Anderson  enjoyed  the 
reputation  of  being  a  kind  and  indulgent  slave- 
master. 

For  thirty  long  years  poor  kidnapped  Abou  Beer 
Sadiki  cherished  fond  remembrances  of  the  sunny 
home  from  which  he  had  been  stolen,  and  nursed 
his  sorrow  in  secret.  Few  can  understand  how 
dense  was  the  darkness  resting  upon  that  wounded 
spirit  through  all  this  protracted  period — darkness 
somewhat  lessened  by  the  blessed  hopes  inspired 
by  the  Gospel  that  he  heard  at  the  Methodist 
chapel,  where  it  was  his  chief  delight  to  attend. 
At  length  the  time  came  when  a  new  and  cheer- 
ing light  began  to  fall  across  the  path  that  lay  be- 
fore him.  The  Christian  philanthropy  of  Britain 
had    risen    in   its   irresistible  might  to   assail   the 


348         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

stronghold  of  the  oppressors,  and  the  cruel  system 
that  plundered  and  wasted  nearly  a  million  of  hu- 
man beings,  under  the  sanction  of  British  law,  was 
tottering  to  its  fall.  Whispers  about  freedom,  the 
utterance  of  which  had  hitherto  been  regarded 
and  dealt  with  as  a  capital  crime,  began  to  circu- 
late freely,  and  soon  there  was  rejoicing  through 
all  the  land  when  it  could  no  longer  be  concealed 
that  the  day  of  redemption  was  drawing  nigh,  and 
that  the  time  had  been  fixed  by  the  Government 
at  home  when  liberty  should  be  proclaimed 
throughout  the  land,  and  slavery,  after  a  few  years 
of  probationary  servitude,  should  be  finally  done 
away. 

To  Abou  Beer  these  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  to 
multitudes  appeared  to  bring  but  a  small  degree 
of  gladness,  for  hope  had  almost  died  within  him. 
His  spirit,  bruised  and  crushed  beneath  the  weight 
of  woe  that  had  been  pressing  upon  it  for  thirty 
years,  seemed  to  have  lost  every  thing  like  elas- 
ticity, and  to  be  incapable  of  rising  from  its  pros- 
tration. He  remained  quiet,  passive,  and  gloomy, 
as  he  had  been  before,  amid  the  preparations  for 
the  great  event  of  emancipation  which  gladdened 
so  many  hearts  around  him.  But  the  Lord,  in  his 
gracious  providence,  was  raising  up  for  him  an 
active  and  powerful  friend. 

Among  other  arrangements  considered  needful 
for  the  proper  carrying  out  of  the  important  act 
for  the  abolition  of  colonial  slavery  was  the  ap- 
pointment of  stipendiary  magistrates,  to  be  sent 
out  from  England,  by  whom  the  new  law  should 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  349 

be  chiefly  administered.  A  considerable  number 
of  gentlemen  were  selected  for  this  purpose,  whose 
position  in  life,  character,  and  education  marked 
them  out  as  suitable  for  the  important  trust  that 
was  to  be  confided  to  them.  It  would  occupy  too 
much  space,  and  scarcely  be  in  accordance  with 
the  design  of  this  paper,  to  tell  how  many  of  these 
excellent  and  noble-minded  men  were  worried  out 
of  life,  or  compelled  to  quit  their  office  in  disgust, 
by  the  vile  conspiracies  of  the  slaveholding  fac- 
tion. Facilities  for  annoying  and  worrying  the 
stipendiary  magistrates  were  designedly  afforded 
to  evil-minded  men  by  the  pro-slavery  colonial 
Legislature  in  framing  and  passing  the  local  abo- 
lition act.  They  were  compelled  to  pass  the  law 
to  abolish  slavery,  or  forfeit  all  claim  to  a  share  of 
the  compensation  money.  But  in  doing  it  they 
studied  to  render  the  position  of  the  new  magis- 
trates as  difficult  and  disagreeable  as  possible,  and 
interposed  as  many  obstacles  as  they  could  to  im- 
pede the  new  magistrates  in  the  performance  of 
their  duty.  Some  of  these  men  who  gave  noble 
promise  of  usefulness  soon  died,  worn  out  by  per- 
plexity, disappointment,  and  trouble,  leaving  fam- 
ilies to  mourn  their  loss.  Others,  unable  to  en- 
dure the  unceasing  worry  and  opposition,  and  the 
vulgar  insolence  to  which  they  were  exposed, 
soon  relinquished  their  appointments,  and  re- 
turned home  in  chagrin  and  disgust. 

Among  the  latter  was  Dr.  Madden,  the  accom- 
plished author  of  a  book  of  "  Travels  in  the  East," 
who  had  accepted  the  appointment  in  the  hope  of 


350         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

being  useful  to  a  suffering  class  of  his  fellow-men. 
Dr.  Madden  was  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar,  a 
man  of  talent  and  research,  who  had  traveled  ex- 
tensively both  in  Europe  and  in  the  East.  As  the 
most  important  of  all  these  magisterial  appoint- 
ments in  Jamaica,  Dr.  Madden  had  been  selected 
by  the  governor,  because  of  his  distinguished  abili- 
ties and  acquirements,  to  be  the  stipendiary  mag- 
istrate at  Kingston,  the  commercial  capital  of  the 
colony.  But  he  found  the  position  one  of  great 
difficulty,  and  was  exposed  to  so  much  insult  and 
opposition,  which  the  law  gave  him  no  power  to 
hold  in  check,  that;  after  filling  the  office  one  year, 
he  resigned  it  and  returned  to  England,  to  the 
regret  of  all  who  were  concerned  in  seeing  justice 
done  to  the  long-oppressed  race.  After  his  return 
from  Jamaica  Dr.  Madden  published  a  series  of 
letters,  written  during  his  residence  there,  in  two 
v'olumes,  entitled  "  Twelve  Months'  Residence  in 
the  West  Indies."  The  letters  are  written  in  a 
lively  and  attractive  style,  and  give  varied  infor- 
mation concerning  the  West  Indies,  particularly 
of  Jamaica  and  his  connection  with  that  island. 
The  publication,  now  out  of  print,  possesses  value, 
as  showing  the  condition  of  things  and  the  state  of 
public  feeling  in  Jamaica  when  the  memorable 
Emancipation  Act  began  to  take  effect.* 

It  was   during  Dr.   Madden's  administration   in 

Kingston  that  Mr.  Anderson  presented  himself  at 

the  office  of  the  special  magistrate,  accompanied 

by  Edward  Donlan,  for  the  purpose  of  having  his 

*  See  note  at  the  end  of  this  chapter. 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  351 

slave  sworn  as  a  constable  on  his  master's  proper- 
ty, in  accordance  with  the  new  law  that  was  about 
to  substitute  the  apprenticeship  of  the  negroes  in 
the  stead  of  slavery.  Dr.  Madden,  being  himself 
an  Oriental  scholar,  was  surprised  to  see  this 
grave-looking  negro,  in  whose  external  appear- 
ance there  was  little  to  distinguish  him  from 
many  others  who  came  on  a  similar  errand,  ex- 
cept an  unusual  sobriety  and  an  air  of  intelligence 
not  common  to  them,  signing  his  name  in  well- 
written  Arabic,  not  as  Edward  Donlan,  the  name 
given  by  the  master,  but  "Abou  Beer  Sadiki." 
The  interest  he  took  in  all  Oriental  matters,  and 
the  unusual  circumstance  of  one  in  Donlan's  con- 
dition being  acquainted  with  Arabic,  and  able  to 
write  it  in  very  superior  style,  induced  the  magis- 
trate to  enter  into  conversation  with  him,  and 
question  him  concerning  his  former  history.  His 
intelligent  replies  satisfied  Dr.  Madden  that  he 
had  before  him  a  case  of  more  than  ordinary  in- 
terest, but  he  could  not  there,  upon  the  bench, 
and  surrounded  by  a  busy,  bustling  crowd,  enter 
so  fully  into  the  matter  as  he  resolved  to  do  at  the 
earliest  opportunity. 

The  following  day  Donlan,  at  the  request  of 
Dr.  Madden,  attended  upon  him  at  his  own  house, 
and  gave  him  all  the  particulars  of  his  former  life 
as  recorded  substantially  in  the  preceding  pages. 
Afterward  he  gave  him  his  history,  written  in  Ara- 
bic, a  translation  of  which,  by  Dr.  Madden,  was 
subsequently  published  in  several  of  the  island 
newspapers.     The  doctor,  who  had  conceived  a 


352         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

great  friendship  for  the  kidnapped  Donlan,  said 
concerning  him,  "  He  became  a  frequent  visitor  at 
my  house  in  his  master's  leisure  time.  I  found 
the  geographical  part  of  his  story  quite  correct, 
and  I  soon  discovered  that  his  attainments  as  an 
Arabic  scholar  were  the  least  of  his  merits.  I 
found  him  a  person  of  excellent  conduct,  of  great 
discernment  and  discretion.  I  think  if  I  wanted 
advice  on  any  important  matter,  in  which  it  re- 
quired extreme  prudence  and  a  high  sense  of 
moral  rectitude  to  qualify  the  possessor  to  give 
counsel,  I  would  as  soon  have  recourse  to  the  ad- 
vice of  this  poor  negro  as  any  person  I  know." 

Among  the  provisions  of  the  law  changing  the 
state  of  the  slaves  to  that  of  apprentices  for  a  term 
of  years,  there  was  an  arrangement  which  gave  the 
apprentices  a  right,  on  a  fair  valuation,  of  buying 
out  the  unexpired  term  of  their  bondage.  It  was 
an  objectionable  part  of  this  arrangement  that  it 
was  not  left  to  the  special  magistrates,  but  local 
planters  and  merchant  magistrates  were  to  be  called 
in  to  assist  in  the  appraisement.  This  was  a  cause 
of  endless  trouble  and  difficulty,  for,  open  as  they 
were  to  all  sorts  of  local  influence,  and  able  to 
interpose  the  most  unreasonable  obstacles,  it  was 
very  seldom  that  these  cases  could  be  brought  to 
a  fair  and  equitable  settlement.  Moreover  the 
arrangement  was  such  as  to  make  all  the  excel- 
lences of  character  and  conduct  belonging  to  the 
apprentice  work  for  his  disadvantage.  A  worth- 
less slave  or  apprentice  could  get  his  liberty  on 
comparatively  easy  terms ;  but  the  good  and  faith- 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  353 

ful  found  that  their  excellent  qualities  were  made 
by  a  crude  and  unjust  law  the  chief  barriers  to 
their  freedom.  The  better  the  slave  the  more 
valuable  he  became  to  his  employer,  and  the  larger 
the  sum  required  for  his  liberty. 

Dr.  Madden  became  so  interested  in  his  slave 
friend  Donlan  that  he  resolved  to  effect  his  im- 
mediate freedom,  and  assist  him  to  return  to  the 
home  from  which  he  had  been  so  wrongfully  torn 
away.  But  this  difficulty  stared  him  in  the  face. 
He  knew  that  Donlan 's  services  were  invaluable  to 
his  owner,  and  expected  that  a  very  high  valua- 
tion would  be  put  upon  the  unexpired  term  of  his 
servitude,  thus  making  the  very  qualities  that 
fitted  him  for  freedom  the  chief  obstacles  to  his 
gaining  it.  But  he  thought  it  likely  that  when 
the  circumstances  of  Donlan's  case  came  to  be 
publicly  known  many  kind-hearted  persons  would 
respond  to  the  appeal  which  he  determined  to 
make  on  the  slave's  behalf,  and  come  forward  with 
subscriptions  to  assist  him  in  the  accomplishment 
of  his  benevolent  purpose.  Some  endeavored  to 
discourage  him  by  reminding  him  how  invaluable 
the  slave's  services  were  to  Mr.  Anderson,  and 
that  it  was  scarcely  possible  that  he  could  for  any 
amount  of  remuneration  speedily  obtain  a  clerk  to 
fill  Donlan's  place  in  the  counting-house  as  effi- 
ciently as  he  filled  it.  All  this  would  have  to  be 
considered  in  the  appraisement.  Others  told  him 
that  some  years  before  an  attempt  had  been  made 
to  purchase  Donlan's  freedom  without  success. 
The  Duke  of  Montebello  when  he  visited  Jamaica 


354         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

had  chanced  to  become  acquainted  with  Mr.  An- 
derson's slave-clerk  and  his  history,  and  would 
have  paid  a  large  price  for  his  liberty.  But  no 
price  he  could  offer  would  induce  the  owner  to 
give  up  his  "property."  And  although  the  duke 
endeavored  to  avail  himself  of  the  powerful  influ- 
ence of  the  Colonial  Office,  to  his  great  chagrin 
and  disappointment  he  failed  to  accomplish  his 
benevolent  design  of  restoring  the  kidnapped  one 
to  his  friends  and  home.  The  grasp  of  the  slave- 
holder on  his  stolen  property  could  not  be 
unloosed. 

All  this  was  disheartening ;  but  Dr.  Madden 
was  not  a  man  to  be  easily  turned  from  any  pur- 
pose on  which  he  had  set  his  heart.  The  slave- 
holder might  be  greedy,  and  have  influence  to 
succeed  in  getting  a  heavy  price  put  upon  the  lib- 
erty of  his  bondman.  But  that  was  all.  He  could 
not  now,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Duke  of  Montebello, 
absolutely  refuse  to  let  him  go  on  any  terms.  The 
hard  grip  of  the  owner  upon  the  unfortunate  slave 
was  so  far  relaxed  by  force  of  law  that  a  golden  key 
could  now  set  him  free  whether  the  master  was 
willing  or  not.  After  a  few  weeks'  delay  Dr.  Mad- 
den, with  some  misgivings  as  to  the  reception 
he  should  meet,  but  determined  in  his  purpose, 
presented  himself  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Ander- 
son. He  frankly  stated  what  his  views  and  inten- 
tions were  with  regard  to  Donlan,  and  expressed 
his  desire  to  negotiate  with  the  master  a  private 
bargain  for  the  slave's  release. 

It  is  to  the  credit  of  Mr.  Anderson,  as  it  was 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  355 

very  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  visitor,  that  he 
would  not  aggravate  the  injury  of  having  held 
Edward  Donlan  in  slavery  through  about  thirty 
years  of  unrequited  toil  by  the  further  wrong  of 
exacting  a  large  sum  to  let  him  now  go  free. 
When  the  doctor  expressed  his  wish  to  negotiate 
for  Donlan's  release,  that  he  might  return  to  his 
own  country,  the  owner  said,  "  You  need  say  no 
more  on  the  subject,  sir.  The  man  is  valuable  to 
me ;  his  services  are  worth  more  to  me  than 
those  of  negroes  for  whom  I  gave  three  hundred 
pounds.  But  the  man  has  been  a  good  servant  to 
me — a  faithful  and  a  good  negro — and  I  will  take 
no  money  for  him  ;  I  will  give  him  his  liberty." 
Dr.  Madden  pressed  him  to  name  any  reasonable 
sum  for  his  release,  but  he  persisted  in  refusing 
to  receive  anything  in  the  way  of  indemnity  for 
Donlan's  services. 

I  do  not  wish  to  detract  in  any  degree  from  the 
generosity  of  this  act  of  Mr.  Anderson,  which  was 
greatly  lauded  at  the  time,  and  by  Dr.  Madden 
himself  as  a  singular  act  of  liberality.  Multi- 
tudes of  slave-owners  in  that  gentleman's  position 
would  have  stood  out  resolutely  for  the  utmost 
value  of  Donlan's  services  to  him,  as  an  appren- 
ticed laborer,  for  the  several  years  during  which 
the  law  bound  him  to  his  master.  And  Mr.  An- 
derson kindly  abandoned  his  claim  and  exacted 
nothing !  But  this  fact  has  to  be  viewed  in  the 
light  of  another,  by  which  its  generosity  appears 
to  be  somewhat  diminished.  From  the  time  that 
Donlan  was  kidnapped  from  his  home  and  brought 
23 


356         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

a  fettered  slave  to  Jamaica,  Mr,  Anderson,  know- 
ing well  that  he  was  buying  stolen  property  for  a 
sum  of  money  not  very  large,  as  he  bought  him 
untried  and  unseasoned  from  the  slave-ship,  exer- 
cised the  force  of  a  wicked  and  oppressive  law  to 
make  Donlan  his  slave,  and  compel  him,  without 
any  choice  of  his  own,  for  thirty  years  to  employ 
all  his  energies  of  mind  and  body  for  his  (Ander- 
son's) benefit  without  wages  or  reward.  For  three 
decades  of  human  life  he  had  without  scruple 
plundered  the  poor  negro  of  his  liberty,  time,  and 
labor,  and  all  that  is  dear  to  man ;  and  he  now 
abstained  from  further  plundering  him  of  a  consid- 
erable amount  of  money  that  he  might  be  suffered 
to  go  free  from  his  service  and  enjoy  the  liberty 
which  is  the  natural  and  inalienable  right  of  every 
man.  Many  of  Mr.  Anderson's  compeers  would 
have  acted  otherwise.  It  was  a  kind  and  degree 
of  liberality  quite  unusual  with  them.  But  I  con- 
fess I  am  not  sharp-sighted  enough  to  discover 
much  of  real  generosity  in  the  act.  It  seems  to 
me  to  be  on  a  par  with  the  generosity  of  the  high- 
way plunderer,  who  robs  his  victim  of  all  he  has 
about  him,  but  abstaiifs  from  the  further  injury  of 
depriving  him  of  his  life. 

The  day  following  that  on  which  Dr,  Madden 
had  the  interview  with  Donlan's  owner  was  ap- 
pointed for  completing  the  act  of  manumission  at 
the  public  office  of  the  special  magistrate.  It  had 
become  known  in  the  city  that  *'  Mr,  Anderson's 
finely-educated  slave,  who  had  kept  his  books  so 
Well  in  Arabic,"  was  about   to   be   emancipated, 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  357 

and  a  large  number  of  persons  of  different  classes 
and  complexions  assembled  to  witness  the  cere- 
mony. The  scene  was  one  of  great  interest.  On 
the  bench  were  Dr.  Madden  and  another  magis- 
trate. Beside  the  bench  stood  the  negro,  of  ex- 
alted rank  in  his  own  country,  in  the  act  of  re- 
ceiving his  liberty  after  being  so  many  years  sub- 
jected to  the  evils  of  slave-life.  Near  him  was  a 
venerable  and  pleasant-looking  man,  with  the 
snows  of  sixty  years  scattered  upon  his  head,  pre- 
pared to  do  an  act  of  tardy  justice  to  one  who, 
through  half  the  term  of  his  own  life,  had  been 
faithfully  serving  him  with  his  might.  The  papers, 
which  had  been  carefully  prepared  under  Dr.  Mad- 
den's  own  inspection,  were  produced.  After  a 
a  brief  address  from  the  bench  on  the  interesting 
case  which  had  called  them  together,  Mr.  Ander- 
son stepped  forward  and  affixed  his  signature  to 
the  important  documents,  and  Abou  Beer  Sadiki, 
amid  the  plaudits  of  the  deeply  interested  specta- 
tors, stood  forth  a  free  man  to  receive  the  hearty 
congratulations  of  many  who  had  long  been  ac- 
quainted with  the  excellent  character  and  abilities 
of  Mr.  Anderson's  negro  clerk. 

On  the  next  day  a  full  account  of  these  pro- 
ceedings was  published  in  the  daily  newspapers, 
together  with  a  translation  of  the  history  of  him- 
self which  the  liberated  slave  had  written  in  Ara- 
bic. Accompanying  these  there  also  appeared  a 
short,  forcible  appeal  from  Dr.  Madden  to  the 
liberality  of  the  Kingston  public,  setting  forth 
the  excellent  character  of  Donlan,  and  inviting 


3S8         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

assistance  on  his  behalf.  In  a  few  days  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  placing  twenty  pounds  in  the  hands 
of  his  negro  friend,  the  fruit  of  this  appeal.  The 
good  doctor  did  what  the  master  should  have 
done  who  had  derived  such  large  profit  from  the 
services  of  the  slave.  "When  thou  sendest  him 
out  free  from  thee  thou  shalt  not  let  him  go  away 
empty." 

The  kindness  of  the  benevolent  magistrate  did 
not  end  here.  Through  his  interposition  means 
were  obtained  for  sending  back  the  much-wronged 
man  to  the  home  he  had  through  all  his  suffering 
career  been  yearning  after  with  intense  desire. 
After  bidding  a  loving  farewell  to  his  Christian 
friends  and  associates,  he  took  his  departure  from 
the  land  of  his  bondage.  After  some  months 
had  elapsed  we  hear  of  his  safe  arrival  at  Sierra 
Leone,  and  of  the  love  and  gratitude  he  cherished 
for  those  who  had  befriended  him  during  his 
slave-life  in  Jamaica.  It  was  stated  that  he  had 
experienced  abundant  kindness  in  that  British 
colony  on  his  native  shores  which  he  had  reached 
on  his  homeward  route,  and  he  trusted  in  the 
Lord  to  direct  his  course,  and  bring  him  safely  to 
the  end  of  his  toilsome  journey.  He  spoke  also 
of  being  about  to  set  off  into  the  interior  of  the 
continent  on  his  way  to  Timbuctoo.  That  was  the 
last  we  heard  of  Edward  Donlan,  or  Abou  Beer 
Sadiki.  Whether  he  reached  his  home  in  safety, 
and  never  found  an  opportunity  of  communication 
with  his  former  friends,  or  perished  by  disease  or 
enemies  by  the  way  ;  or  whether  he  fell  again  into 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  359 

the  hands  of  lurking  men-stealers,  and  was  borne 
away  across  the  sea  to  some  slave-land — Cuba, 
Porto  Rico,  or  Brazil — there  to  languish  out  the 
miserable  remnant  of  a  strangely  checkered  life, 
in  more  cruel  bondage  than  that  from  which  he 
was  redeemed,  we  cannot  tell.  Probably  we 
shall  never  know  what  became  of  the  lovable 
liberated  negro  until  that  great  day  when  all 
secrets  shall  be  revealed. 

Note. — One  of  Dr.  Madden's  letters  concerning  Jamaica 
was  written  in  rhyme,  a  sort  of  parody  on  one  of  the  produc- 
tions of  Lord  Byron.  It  was  addressed  to  Dr.  William  Beat- 
tie,  and  we  produce  it,  as  showing  how  Jamaica  appeared  in 
Dr.  Madden's  eyes  in  1834. 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  beg  leave  to  ask  you. 
Know  you  the  land  where  pimentos  and  chills 

Are  emblems  of  tempers  as  hot  as  the  clime. 
Where  the  blaze  of  the  sun  quite  darkens  the  lilies. 

And  bleaches  the  roses  of  youth  in  their  prime  ? 
Know  you  the  land  of  mosquitoes  and  jiggers, 
Of  Sambos  unchain'd,  and  uncombable  niggers  ; 
Where  the  innocent  cockroach  exhales  a  perfume 
But  a  little  less  fragrant  than  '  Gul  in  her  bloom  ; ' 
Where  the  breath  of  the  sea-breeze  comes  over  the  sense 
Like  the  blast  from  the  mouth  of  some  furnace  intense  ; 
Where  oysters,  like  cabbages,  grow  upon  trees, 
And  cows*  even  browse  in  the  depths  of  the  seas ; 
Where  the  hue  of  the  cheek,  from  the  sallow  Mestee 
To  the  yellow  Mulatto,  though  varied  it  be. 
In  beauty  may  vie  with  the  tint  sweetly  tann'd 
Of  a  Venus  from  China  just  newly  japann'd  ; 

*  The  monati,  or  sen-cow. 


360         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Where  the  climate  is  hot,  and  the  nights  may  be  cool, 

But  the  fevers  are  rife,  and  the  grave-yards  are  full ; 

Where  tlie  butter  is  soft  and  as  melting  in  June 

As  the  hearts  of  the  languishing  maidens  Quadroon  ; 

Where  caloric  abounds  both  in  water  and  wine, 

'  And  all  save  the  spirit  of  rum  is  divine.' 

Where  the  cocoa  and  yam  are  the  choicest  of  fruit, 

And  the  voice  of  the  grasshopper  never  is  mute  ; 

Where  the  land-crab  in  highest  perfection  is  seen, 

And  the  fat  of  the  turtle  is  the  brightest  of  green  ; 

Where  the  mutton,  too  often  manufactured  from  goats, 

Is  killed  the  same  day  it  is  thrust  down  our  throats  ; 

Where  the  man  who  is  thirsty  may  drink  sangaree, 

Till  his  liver  is  spoil'd,  as  at  home  he'd  drink  tea ; 

Where  no  one  of  character,  be  who  he  may. 

Can  ever  eat  less  than  two  breakfasts  a  day  ; 

And  no  man  of  courage  but  laughs  at  the  thought 

Of  his  stomach  presuming  to  cavil  at  aught ; 

Where  the  coup  dc  soleil  is  a  true  coup  de  grace  ; 

And  the  fever  call'd  yellow's  a  knocker  of  brass 

On  the  door  of  the  tomb,  where  one  enters  to-day. 

And  to-morrow,  forgotten,  is  left  to  decay ; 

Where  the  freedom  of  trade  is  a  thing  that's  gone  by 

And  the  dear  name  of  Guinea  recalls  but  a  sigh  ; 

Where  liberty  flourish'd,  and  every  man  white 

Might  once  lick  his  nigger  from  morning  till  night; 

But  now  where  the  Newcastle  doctrine's  unknown. 

And  no  man  can  do  as  he  likes  with  his  own  ; 

Where  Buxton  the  wretch,  and  Macaulay  the  sinner. 

Are  duly  reviled  every  day  after  dinner  ; 

Where  '  the  saints'  by  the  bushas  are  curs'd  most  devoutly, 

And  the  Whigs  by  the  planters  are  i-ated  as  stoutly  ; 

Where  a  paper  the  amplest  encouragement  claims 

Which  calls  its  opponent  the  vilest  of  names ; 

Where  lips  have  no  language  sufficiently  ill 

To  lavish  on  Mulgrave  for  passing  the  bill; 

Where  loyalty  waits  on  each  governor  landing, 

But  has  not  a  leg  at  departure  for  standing ; 


The  Kidnapped  Noble.  361 

Where  the  extraction  of  sugar  doth  clearly  explain 

Why  the  blacks  are  considered  descendants  of  Cain  ; 

In  a  word,  where  in  all  things  both  buckras  and  blacks 

Are  by  fits  and  by  starts  either  rigid  or  lax  ; 

And  in  faith,  as  in  politics,  never  it  seems, 

Are  content  if  their  notions  are  not  in  extremes  ? 

'Tis  the  clime  of  the  West !     'Tis  the  island  of  palms  ! 

'Tis  the  region  of  strife  and  the  country  of  psalms  ! 

'Tis  the  land  of  the  sun,  all  whose  fierceness  prevails 

O'er  the  gravest  discussions  and  the  simplest  details  ! 

*Tis  the  home  of  our  hopes  for  the  African  race  ! 

'Tis  the  tomb  of  the  system  that  brought  us  disgrace  ! 

And  wild  are  the  words  of  its  mourners,  who  rave, 

And  would  roll  back  the  stone  that  is  placed  on  its  grave." 


362         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XVIII. 

Pursuit  of  Knowledge  Under  Difficulties. 

Is  there  one  whom  difficulties  dishearten — who  bends  to  the  storm? 
He  will  do  little.  Is  there  one  who  will  conquer?  That  kind  of  man 
never  fails. — John  Huntek. 

See  first  that  the  design  is  wise  and  just ; 
That  ascertained,  pursue  it  resolutely, 
Do  not  for  one  repulse  forego  the  purpose 
That  you  resolve  to  effect. 

_ir^\URING  the  troubled  times  which  followed 
^^  the  reign  of  terror  in  Jamaica  called  martial 
law,  in  183 1-2,  and  before  the  abolition  of 
slavery  by  which  it  was  shortly  followed,  the 
exigencies  of  the  mission  required  my  removal 
from  the  north  side  of  Jamaica  to  a  station  on  the 
south  side ;  where  the  missionary  had  been  dis- 
qualified by  sickness,  and  compelled  to  remove  to 
a  more  genial  locality. 

It  was  a  time  of  fierce  persecution,  and  the 
fiery  trials  through  which  we  had  been  called  to 
pass  had  greatly  endeared  pastors  and  people  to 
each  other  as  sufferers  in  common,  so  that  the  time 
of  parting  was  to  both  fraught  with  deep  regret. 
While  I  was  occupied  in  packing  my  books  for  the 
journey,  a  gentle  knock  upon  the  door  of  my  study 
announced  a  visitor.  When  told  to  "come  in," 
the   door  slowly  opened,  and  a  negro  woman  of 


Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties.  363 

middle  age  timidly  advanced.  In  her  I  recognized 
one  who  was  well  known  in  the  society  at  that 
place  as  a  person  of  deep  and  earnest  piety.  She 
was  a  slave  belonging  to  a  family  that  cared  little 
about  religion,  and  who  did  not  scruple  to  throw 
many  hinderances  in  her  way  with  regard  to  attend- 
ance upon  religious  ordinances.  They  designedly 
arranged  her  duties  so  as  to  keep  their  dependent 
fully  occupied,  and  leave  her  only  very  few  and 
brief  opportunities  of  attending  to  the  religious 
duties  she  loved  so  well.  But  the  fervent,  unob- 
trusive piety  of  the  humble  slave-woman,  and  the 
clear,  intelligent  statements  of  Christian  experience 
she  gave  at  her  class-meeting,  and  in  the  love-feasts 
of  the  society,  had  caused  her  to  be  well  known  in 
the  Church  she  belonged  to,  and  the  meek  and 
quiet  spirit  she  exhibited  on  all  occasions,  and  her 
successful  efforts  to  win  souls  to  Christ,  had  pro- 
cured for  her  in  more  than  an  ordinary  degree  the 
respect  of  all  who  were  acquainted  with  her. 
Betsey  Taylor  was  the  name  she  bore.  Her 
features  were  plain  and  coarse,  exhibiting  much 
of  the  true  African  type,  but  were  rendered  al- 
most beautiful  with  the  radiancy  of  the  settled 
peace  and  love  that  ruled  the  heart  within. 
There  was  the  stamp  of  heaven  upon  that  coal- 
black  face. 

Within  a  few  months  past  the  missionaries  in 
that  locality  had  been  consigned  to  a  loathsome 
prison  for  preaching  the  Gospel,  or  assailed  with 
brutal  violence,  and  their  lives  placed  in  jeopardy. 
Some  of  the  sanctuaries  of  God  had  been  shut  up 


364        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

by  magisterial  intolerance,  and  others  pulled  down 
or  burned  to  ashes  by  planter  mobs.  And  in  these 
seasons  of  sore  trial  none  were  more  prompt  to 
sympathize  with  the  persecuted  pastors  than  Bet- 
sey Taylor,  or  more  ready  to  tender  such  expres- 
sions of  regard  as  could  be  conveyed  by  offerings 
of  fruit,  etc.,  to  the  ministers  who  had  been  God's 
instruments  in  bringing  her  to  the  enjoyment  of 
religion,  which  was  to  her  more  precious  than  ru- 
bies, and  greater  gain  than  fine  gold. 

When  I  lifted  my  eyes  to  the  opening  door  to 
greet  my  visitor  it  was  Betsey's  pleasant,  homely 
face  that  I  saw  beaming  upon  me.  "  Good  morn- 
ing, Betsey,"  I  said  as  she  entered  the  study. 
"Good  morning,  minister,"  she  replied.  "Me 
come  to  ask  one  favor,  and  hope  minister  will  not 
think  me  too  bold." 

Betsey  had  so  far  profited  by  her  position  as 
servant  in  an  opulent  white  family  that  she  spoke 
less  broken  English  than  most  of  those  who  were 
in  similar  circumstances  around  her.  "  It  will  af- 
ford me  pleasure,  Betsey,"  I  replied,  "  to  render 
you  any  service  in  my  power.  What  is  it  you 
wish  me  to  do  for  you  ?  "  "  I  very  sorry  that 
minister  is  going  away,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  if 
minister  before  he  go  will  give  me  one  book  that 
minister  use  himself  I  shall  keep  it  always  for 
'member  minister."  "  I  should  like  to  give  you 
something  as  a  keepsake,  Betsey,  but  I  do  not 
think  a  book  would  be  the  best  and  most  useful 
thing,  for,  unless  I  am  under  a  mistake,  you  could 
not  make  any  use  of  it,  as  you  have  never  learned 


Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties.  365 

to  read."  "True,  minister;  but,  please  God,  I  in- 
tend for  learn  to  read,  and  if  minister  will  give  me 
one  book,  minister  will  see,  when  he  come  back 
this  way,  that  I  able  for  read  him." 

I  inquired  of  her  how  she  was  going  to  learn  to 
read,  and  from  what  quarter  she  hoped  to  obtain 
help  in  her  undertaking.  In  answer  to  my  in- 
quiries, I  gathered  from  her  that  she  had  no  time 
to  go  to  the  Sunday-school,  nor  would  the  family 
that  owned  her  permit  her  to  do  so.  It  was  very 
seldom  she  could  get  time  to  attend  the  chapel 
services,  and  she  was  often  prevented  from  going 
to  her  class.  Nor  had  she  any  hope  that  any  per- 
son in  the  family  that  held  her  in  bondage  would 
afford  her  the  slightest  assistance,  as,  in  accord- 
ance with  old-time  prejudices,  they  did  not  ap- 
prove of  slaves  being  taught  to  read.  I  was  curi- 
ous to  find  out  what  means  of  instruction  she  ex- 
pected to  avail  herself  of,  but  could  only  get  the 
information  that  "  if  minister  would  give  her  the 
book  she  would  learn  for  read  it." 

Although  she  mentioned  no  particular  book,  I 
could  perceive  that  Betsey's  desires  pointed  to  one 
of  the  books  used  in  the  chapel  services ;  either 
the  hymn-book  or  the  Bible,  beyond  which  she 
had  probably  no  idea  concerning  books  at  all. 
She  seemed  to  think  it  very  desirable  to  be  able 
to  use  her  book  when  she  went  to  the  house  of 
God,  and  comfort  herself  with  its  truths  in  her 
own  humble  room. 

I  had  on  hand  a  quarto  Bible  which  I  could 
spare   for  the   purpose.      Reaching   the  precious 


366         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

volume  from  my  book-shelves,  I  said,  "  Here, 
Betsey,  is  the  book  of  books,  God's  own  word, 
which  he  has  given  to  make  us  wise  unto  salva- 
tion in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ,  and  as  you  tell  me  you  are  deter- 
mined to  learn  to  read  it,  I  shall  have  great  pleas- 
ure in  making  you  a  present  of  it.  I  trust  it  will 
be  a  great  comfort  and  help  to  you  all  the  days  of 
your  life."  "  O  minister,"  she  said,  as  tears  of 
gratitude  rolled  down  her  sable  cheeks,  "  I  so 
thankful.  I  never  forget  minister,  and  never  for- 
get to  ask  Massa  Jesus  to  bless  minister  as  long  as 
me  live."  I  handed  her  the  book,  which  she  re- 
ceived with  a  deep  courtesy,  and  as  she  left  the 
room  I  heard  her  exclaim  with  emotion,  as  she 
hugged  her  treasure  to  her  bosom,  "  Me  rich  for 
true." 

Two  or  three  years  had  elapsed  before  a  long 
and  wasting  illness,  produced  by  the  poisonous 
malaria  of  St.  Thomas-in-the-East,  caused  me  to 
revisit  that  part  of  the  island  for  a  change,  hoping 
that,  amid  the  beautiful  scenes,  the  remembrance 
of  which  was  fondly  cherished,  and  the  kind  at- 
tention of  loving  friends,  I  should  recruit  the 
physical  energies  which  repeated  and  lengthened 
attacks  of  fever  had  woefully  impaired.  During 
the  time  I  had  been  away  from  that  part  of  the 
island  great  and  important  changes  had  occurred, 
changes  which  the  most  sanguine  scarcely  imag- 
ined could  have  taken  place  so  soon.  The  sys- 
tem of  human  slavery  which  seemed  to  be  so 
firmly  established,  that  many  years  must   elapse 


Pursu  it  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties.  367 

before  it  could  be  uprooted,  had  been  swept  away 
by  the  voice  of  an  indignant  nation.  Liberty  had 
been  proclaimed  through  all  the  land,  and  Brit- 
ain's bondmen  had  passed  into  that  intermediate 
state  of  apprenticeship  which  was  to  precede  their 
absolute  freedom — the  happy  result  of  the  san- 
guinary proceedings  and  vindictive  persecutions  I 
had  witnessed  when  I  was  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood before. 

One  of  my  earliest  visitors,  after  landing  from 
the  schooner  which  conveyed  me  round  the  west 
end  of  the  island,  was  Betsey  Taylor,  who  came 
laden  with  oranges,  grapes,  and  a  variety  of  other 
fruits,  as  a  grateful  offering  to  her  afflicted  minis- 
ter, and  a  face  glowing  with  pleasure  that  she  was 
once  more  permitted  to  look  upon  him  again.  In 
the  same  tray  that  contained  the  fruits,  nicely 
covered  up  with  a  snowy  napkin,  there  was  Bet- 
sey's cherished  Bible,  which  she  had  brought  for 
the  purpose  of  showing  minister  that  she  had  ful- 
filled her  promise  of  learning  to  read.  She  evi- 
dently expected  that  I  should  request  her  to  give 
auricular  demonstration  of  her  newly  acquired 
accomplishment.  And  I  was  myself  curious  to 
ascertain  what  progress  she  had  made  in  learning, 
amid  the  difficulties  and  discouragements  that 
surrounded  her  in  her  enslaved  condition. 
"  Well,  Betsey,"  said  I,  "  it  affords  me  the  great- 
est satisfaction  to  know  that  you  have  been  able 
to  accomplish  your  purpose  in  learning  to  read. 
I  confess  I  hardly  expected  that,  situated  as  you 
were,  you  would  be  able  to  carry  out  your  design, 


368         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  you  read  a  chapter  in 
your  Bible,  that  I  may  judge  how  far  you  have 
succeeded."  "  I  thought  minister  would  like  for 
hear,"  she  replied,  "and  so  I  brought  the  book." 
Betsey  having  fixed  upon  her  nose  a  pair  of  spec- 
tacles with  large  round  glasses  not  remarkable  for 
their  elegance,  she  proceeded  to  read,  under  my 
direction,  several  of  the  psalms,  and  chapters  from 
various  books  of  the  New  Testament.  This  she 
did  with  a  fluency  and  correct  pronunciation,  and 
an  evident  appreciation  of  the  meaning  of  what 
she  read,  that  excited  my  astonishment,  and' from 
which  I  concluded  that  she  must  have  obtained 
the  help  of  some  kind  instructor,  who  had  taken 
great  pains  with  her.  "  I  am  really  very  much 
rejoiced,  Betsey,  to  find  that  you  can  read  so  well. 
You  must  have  obtained  help  that  you  did  not 
expect;  I  should  like  to  know  who  has  been  your 
teacher."  "0  plenty  people  help  me,  minister;" 
and  then  she  proceeded  to  enlighten  me  concern- 
ing her  course  of  study  in  her  own  simple  style, 
by  a  relation  which  afforded  me  equal  surprise  and 
pleasure. 

Her  time,  it  appeared,  had  been  no  more  at  her 
own  disposal  after  I  went  away  than  it  had  been 
before.  She  had  never  been  able  to  go  to  Sun- 
day-school, and  none  in  the  house  of  her  bondage 
would  afford  her  the  slightest  aid,  but  rather 
scoffed  at  the  desire  she  expressed  to  learn  to 
read  her  Bible.  Nor  could  she  find  any  time,  so 
entirely  was  she  occupied  in  her  unrequited  serv- 
itude, to  go  to  those  who  would  cheerfully  have 


Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties.  369 

given  her  the  instruction  she  desired.  But  "  where 
there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way,"  and  Betsey  was 
bent  upon  finding  it.  And  she  did  find  it.  Bet- 
sey had  set  her  heart  on  gaining  the  ability  to 
read  God's  own  word  for  herself.  What  had  been 
done  by  others  might  be  done  by  her,  and  she 
was  determined  to  try  and  try  until  she  had 
accomplished  her  purpose.  By  the  energy  of  a 
determined  will  she  overcame  all  obstacles,  and 
triumphed  where  a  multitude  would  have  been 
baffled  and  given  up  in  despair. 

First  of  all,  after  getting  the  Bible,  she  went 
with  the  first  coin  she  could  call  her  own  to  a 
store  where,  among  all  kinds  of  merchandise,  they 
sold  books  for  children,  and  requested  to  be  sup- 
plied with  a  book  "  for  learn  for  read.-'  She  was 
first  offered  a  spelling-book,  but  she  had  not  suffi- 
cient money  to  purchase  that,  for  the  price  was  a 
"maccaroni,"  (a  shilling,)  and  she  had  only  "one 
fi'penny,"  a  coin  that  amounted  to  threepence  in 
English  money.  The  fi'penny  was  ultimately  in- 
vested in  a  small  primer,  which  she  was  told  was 
the  proper  book  for  a  beginner  to  learn  to  read, 
and  the  seller  kindly  pointed  out  to  Betsey  where 
she  was  to  commence.  Happy  in  its  possession, 
Betsey  departed  with  her  new  treasure,  and  at 
once  on  her  way  home  commenced  the  process  of 
study  she  intended  to  pursue.  She  could  of  her- 
self make  nothing  of  the  strange-looking  things 
called  letters,  which  she  was  told  must  first  be 
learned.  Fixing  her  regard  upon  the  first  of  the 
lot,   she    cast   her   eyes   around,  and    discovering 


370        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

some  person  in  the  street  that  she  thought  could 
give  her  the  desired  information,  she  went  up  to 
him,  and,  dropping  a  respectful  courtesy,  pointed 
to  the  capital  letter  A,  and  said,  "  Please,  massa, 
tell  me  what  dat  'tan'  for  ? "  Having  received 
the  information  she  sought,  she  pondered  it  well 
until  the  letter  became  quite  familiar  to  her  eye, 
and  she  was  sure  she  would  know  it  again  wher- 
ever she  met  with  it.  She  then  proceeded  to  the 
next,  and  mastered  that  in  a  similar  way.  And  so 
Betsey  went  on,  always  placing  the  book  in  her 
bosom  whenever  she  went  out  into  the  streets, 
and  appealing  to  any  one  she  met  who  was  likely 
to  aid  her  with,  "  Please,  massa,  what  dat  'tan' 
for  ? " 

The  alphabet,  both  large  and  small,  was  soon 
mastered,  and  then  Betsey  went  on  to  the  more 
formidable  task  of  putting  the  letters  together  in 
words,  laying  the  public  under  contribution  in 
this  as  she  had  done  before,  and  seldom  meeting 
with  a  rebuff.  Shrewd  and  intelligent,  and  anx- 
ious to  learn,  she  soon  began  to  understand  the 
power  of  the  letters,  and  in  a  much  shorter  time 
than  many  took  to  gain  this  elementary  knowledge 
who  were  favored  with  the  advantages  of  efficient 
instruction,  but  not  so  much  in  earnest  to  learn 
as  Betsey,  she  surmounted  the  difficulty,  and  be- 
gan to  spell  out  chapters  in  her  treasured  Bible. 
Thus  it  was  that  when  I  returned  to  the  neigh- 
borhood, after  the  lapse  of  somewhat  less  than 
three  years,  Betsey  could  read  her  Bible  with 
perfect   fluency,  and  found  it   to  be  a  source  of 


Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties.  371 

inexpressible  comfort  and  profit.  She  also  showed 
me  her  hymn-book,  which  she  rejoiced  in  being 
able  to  use,  and  assured  me  that  these  two  books 
were  her  daily  study  and  her  greatest  earthly  joy. 
She  had  been  able  also  to  read  several  other 
books  which  kind  friends  had  lent  to  her,  by 
which  she  had  been  greatly  aided  and  strength- 
ened in  her  Christian  life. 

At  the  termination  of  the  apprenticeship  system 
Betsey  obtained  her  entire  freedom,  and  was  soon 
in  more  comfortable  and  prosperous  circumstances 
than  she  had  ever  been  before.  Her  superior  in- 
telligence  and  devoted,  active  piety  commended 
her  to  the  notice  of  the  pastors  of  the  Church  as 
a  suitable  person  to  fill  the  office  of  class-leader. 
She  was  accordingly  appointed,  and  was  very  use- 
ful in  bringing  many  young  persons  of  her  own 
sex  to  Christ,  and  helping  them  in  their  Chris- 
tian course.  In  this  capacity  she  was  greatly 
respected  by  all  who  knew  her,  both  white  and 
black. 

Several  times,  when  on  distant  stations,  a  small 
basket  came  to  me  containing  jars  of  preserved 
fruit  and  pickles,  but  without  any  note  to  indicate 
whence  they  came,  and  for  some  years  I  knew  not 
to  whom  I  was  indebted  for  these  anonymous 
favors.  But  having  to  travel  to  the  north  side 
of  the  island,  where  Betsey  resided,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  taking  part  in  the  opening  services  of 
a  new  chapel,  the  grateful  negro  woman  came 
to  see  me,  and  then  I  discovered,  from  several 
questions  she  put  concerning  them,  that  these 
24 


372        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

gifts  had  been  forwarded  by  her,  in  token  of  the 
fervent  gratitude  she  cherished  toward  the  donor 
of  the  precious  volume,  which  had  been  her 
greatest  earthly  treasure,  and  on  which  she  based 
the  hopes  of  life  and  immortality  that  filled  her 
with  unspeakable  joy. 


Blighted  Lives.  373 


XIX. 

Blighted  Lives. 

Beware  the  bowl  I    Though  rich  and  bright 

Its  rubles  flash  upon  the  sight, 

An  adder  colls  its  depth  beneath, 

Whose  lure  is  woe,  whose  sting  is  death. — Stkeet. 

j^i^^T'ITHIN  the  tropics  the  danger  of  forming 
intemperate  habits  is  greater  than  in  a 
milder  clime.  There  is  a  more  rapid 
exhaustion  of  the  fluids  in  the  system  by  in- 
creased perspiration,  requiring  a  more  frequent 
supply  to  meet  the  demands  of  nature,  and  if  re- 
course be  had  to  beverages  of  the  alcoholic  kind, 
it  requires  but  little  sagacity  to  see  that  danger  is 
hidden  there.  It  is  also  the  natural  effect  of  a 
tropical  climate  to  produce  a  degree  of  lassitude, 
of  which  the  denizens  of  cooler  regions  are  un- 
conscious, except  occasionally,  when  the  fierce 
heat  of  a  midsummer  day  brings  them  a  tem- 
porary experience  of  those  relaxing  influences 
which  are  constantly  felt,  in  a  greater  or  less  de- 
gree, within  the  torrid  zone.  One  of  the  effects 
of  alcoholic  drink  is  to  counteract  the  lassitude 
for  a  brief  season,  and  produce  a  considerable 
degree  of  artificial  excitement  and  energy,  which, 
for  the  time,  is  exceedingly  grateful.  But  the 
effect  is  temporary  and  soon  passes  away,  followed 


374         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

by  a  reaction  which  augments  the  physical  relax- 
ation natural  to  the  climate,  and  seems  to  call  for 
a  renewal  of  the  grateful  restorative.  Here  also 
danger  lurks  unseen  and  unsuspected,  and  it  is 
one  of  the  easiest  things  possible  to  glide  insensi- 
bly into  the  practice  of  using  dangerous  stimu- 
lants, and  a  habit  is  formed  not  easy  to  be  shaken 
off,  until  all  the  faculties  of  man's  noble  nature 
are  ensnared,  bound  as  with  fetters  of  iron,  and 
the  poor  victim  finds  himself  helpless  in  the  grasp 
of  a  fiend,  who  seldom  relaxes  his  hold  till  the 
destruction  of  both  body  and  soul  is  accom- 
plished. 

Here  lies  the  greatest  danger  of  Europeans 
within  the  tropics.  That  poisonous  influences, 
destructive  of  health  and  life,  proceeding  from  the 
rapid  decomposition  both  of  vegetable  and  animal 
matter,  often  load  the  air,  especially  in  the  less 
favored  localities,  is  true ;  but  the  death  of  vast 
numbers  in  tropical  countries  has  been  ascribed  to 
the  effect  of  the  climate,  that  was  in  fact  the  result 
of  using  stimulants,  which  shortened  life  in  various 
ways,  even  when  there  were  none  of  the  ordinary 
calamitous  results  of  habitual  drunkenness.  The 
man  whcse  business  carries  him  to  torrid  regions 
will  be  wise  to  use  no  stimulants  of  the  alcoholic 
kind — the  Christian  missionary  above  all.  Min- 
gling with  many  cheering  scenes  of  holiness  and 
usefulness,  which  a  review  of  nearly  forty  years 
spent  in  bright  glowing  regions  of  tropical  beauty 
present  to  him,  the  writer's  memory  dwells  upon 
others    of    different    character — dark,    cheerless, 


Blighted  Lives.  375 

mournful — examples  of  ruined  greatness,  blighted 
piety,  and  blasted  life,  which  often  bring  a  shadow 
over  his  spirit,  and  constrain  him  to  admonish 
every  youthful  missionary,  and  every  young  man 
whose  providential  course  leads  him  to  the  ardent 
regions  of  the  tropics,  to  stand  entirely  aloof  from 
all  danger,  from  all  possibility  of  being  ensnared 
by  the  demon  of  intemperance,  by  a  total  disuse 
of  alcoholic  beverages. 

"  O,  minister !  Mrs.  P.  begs  you  to  come  over, 
for  Mr.  P.  has  had  a  fit."  Such  was  the  message 
brought  by  an  intelligent  colored  girl,  one  Wednes- 
day afternoon,  as  a  young  missionary  sat  at  dinner 
between  four  and  five  o'clock,  in  one  of  the  most 
pleasant  towns  on  the  north  side  of  Jamaica,  where 
he  exercised  his  pastoral  charge  surrounded  by 
the  grand  scenery  which,  all  along  the  northern 
coast,  distinguishes  that  beautiful  isle  of  the 
western  sea. 

Among  those  who  have  been  gathered  into  the 
little  growing  church  under  the  missionary's  care 
is  an  intelligent  female,  black  but  comely,  of  polite 
and  graceful  manner,  and  as  much  entitled  to  be 
spoken  of  as  a  lady  as  many  of  fairer  hue  to  whom 
that  honorable  designation  is  properly  applied. 
She  was  the  wife  of  a  white  man  who  has  come 
from  a  distant  island  to  fill  a  Government  situation 
in  the  town.  His  office  gives  him  a  respectable 
status  in  society  and  a  comfortable  degree  of 
emolument.  The  time  has  come  when  com- 
plexional  prejudices  are  so  far  modified  that  the 
marriage  of  a  white  man  with  a  colored  woman  is 


3/6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

no  longer  the  strange  and  anomalous  occurrence 
that  at  one  time  it  was,  unfitting  him  for  holding  a 
public  office,  and  shutting  him  out  from  the  more 
aristocratic  circles  of  colonial  society.  Not  a  few 
of  the  most  influential  men  in  the  land  have  set 
public  opinion  at  defiance  in  this  respect,  and 
married  the  mothers  of  their  colored  families,  giv- 
ing their  children,  who  in  many  instances  have  re- 
ceived a  liberal  and  refined  education,  those  ad- 
vantages of  legitimacy  which  a  wise  provision  in 
the  new  marriage  law  enables  them  to  secure  on 
their  behalf.  This,  however,  has  not  been  a  mar- 
riage of  that  class ;  for  both  were  young,  and 
they  are  without  a  family.  It  has  been  a  marriage 
formed  on  moral  grounds.  Brought  to  God 
through  the  fearful  scenes  which  she  witnessed  in 
connection  with  the  desolating  hurricane  of  1831, 
and  experiencing  the  blessedness  and  the  power 
of  the  spiritual  life,  the  black  girl's  companionship 
was  not  to  be  obtained  according  to  the  immoral 
customs  which  prevailed  in  the  colonies  before  re- 
ligion stepped  in  to  rescue,  refine,  and  elevate 
degraded  womanhood.  The  white  Government 
official  proffered  honorable  marriage  to  the  dark- 
skinned  object  of  his  affections.  And  the  marriage 
was  a  happy  one  for  a  while,  and  would  have  con- 
tinued so  had  not  Mr.  P.  unhappily  been  seduced 
into  the  deadly  drink  snare,  and  contracted  the 
sad  habit  which  ruins  multitudes  for  both  worlds, 
and  brings  desolation,  poverty,  and  woe  into 
thousands  of  families. 

Mr.   P.  respected  religion,  and,   with  his  wife, 


Blighted  Lives.  377 

attended  its  public  ordinances  frequently  ;  but  not 
being  gifted  with  the  firmness  that  steadily  resists 
temptation,  he  was  easily  prevailed  upon  by 
associates,  with  whom  he  was  unavoidably 
brought  into  contact  in  the  course  of  his  official 
duties,  to  share  their  indulgences,  which  fre- 
quently were  not  confined  within  the  limits  of 
moderation. 

The  progress  of  destructive  vice  is  much  more 
rapid  in  some  cases  than  in  others.  Slowly,  and 
by  almost  imperceptible  degrees,  some  men  glide 
into  the  habit  which  finally  overcomes  them,  and 
lays  a  giant  grasp  upon  all  their  faculties  ;  while 
others  sink  swiftly  into  ruin,  and  are  mastered 
almost  without  an  effort  to  resist  the  evil  which  is 
enslaving  to  destroy  them.  So  it  is  with  Mr.  P. 
He  rushed  rapidly  to  destruction,  giving  himself 
up  without  restraint  to  a  course  of  indulgence 
which  could  only  have  one  swift  and  fatal  result. 
When  the  missionary  who  has  been  referred  to 
first  made  their  acquaintance,  he  ascertained  that 
it  was  about  two  years  since  Mr.  P.  had  given  him- 
self up  to  the  habit  of  excess  ;  and  already  he  had 
become  a  confirmed  inebriate,  with  whom  intoxica- 
tion is  the  usual  condition.  He  is  seldom  to  be 
found  entirely  sober,  though  he  manages  to  get 
through  his  official  duties  so  as  to  avoid  incurring 
rebuke  from  his  superiors  in  office.  His  excellent 
wife,  who  is  truly  attached  to  him,  has  wept  and 
prayed  and  persuaded.  Whenever  she  could,  she 
has  prevailed  on  him  to  accompany  her  to  the 
house  of  prayer  ;  and  there  have  been  times  when 


378         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

he  has  felt  the  power  of  the  world.  Friends  and 
ministers,  who  could  see  his  danger,  have  ventured 
*^o  advise  with  him.  But  all  remonstrance,  all 
effort  to  arrest  him  in  his  path  of  ruin,  has  been 
vain.  The  appetite  for  stimulants  has  grown  to  an 
absorbing  passion.  His  countenance  has  darkened 
to  almost  a  livid  hue ;  and  he  might  be  met  with 
at  almost  all  hours  of  the  day  in  a  state  of  maudlin 
inebriety,  large  drops  of  perspiration  upon  his 
face,  a  pitiable  example  of  tho  effects  of  intemper- 
ate indulgence.  It  is  not,  therefore,  a  matter  of 
surprise  when  the  message  is  received,  "  Mrs.  P. 
begs  you  to  come  over,  for  Mr.  P.  has  had  a  fit." 

Accompanied  by  a  brother  missionary,  who 
happens  to  be  with  him  on  a  visit  from  a  distant 
part  of  the  island,  the  young  pastor,  without  a 
moment's  loss  of  time,  responds  to  the  request, 
and  is  shortly  standing  by  the  bedside  of  the  suf- 
ferer. That  missionary,  in  his  brief  career,  has 
witnessed  scenes  sad  and  terrible;  for  he  has  seen 
the  gallows  day  after  day  bearing  its  dreadful  fruit, 
and  the  bullet  and  the  scourge  doing  their  revolt- 
ing work ;  humanity  and  justice  alike  trampled 
down,  and  men  boasting  of  a  white  skin  and  a 
liberal  education  reveling  like  demons  in  cruelty 
and  bloodshed  during  "  the  hell-like  saturnalia  of 
martial  law."  But  never  has  he  beheld  a  scene 
so  shocking  to  all  his  sensibilities  as  that  which 
is  now  spread  before  his  gaze.  For  several  days 
Mr.  P.  has  been  more  indisposed  than  usual,  and  to 
day  he  has  been  too  unwell  to  go  to  his  office  ;  but 
all  the  time,  at  short  intervals,  he  has  been  greedily 


Blighted  Lives.  379 

swallowing  potent  draughts  of  brandy  and  water, 
and  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  take  any  thing 
else,  and  about  four  o'clock  he  suddenly  fell  pros- 
trate upon  the  floor  of  his  bedroom.  The  unhappy 
wife  at  first  supposes  it  to  be  the  ordinary  effect  of 
having  taken  a  large  quantity  of  spirit  during  the 
day.  With  all  convenient  speed  he  is  lifted  into 
bed ;  but  the  wretched  man  is  in  a  state  of  insen- 
sibility ;  and  the  twitching  of  the  features,  the 
convulsive  jerking  of  the  limbs,  the  changing 
countenance,  and  the  trembling  of  the  whole 
frame,  denote  that  more  is  the  matter  than  the 
effects  of  simple  intoxication.  This  becomes  still 
more  evident  when,  arousing  a  little  from  the  tem- 
porary unconsciousness  into  which  he  has  fallen, 
he  sends  forth  shrieks  and  cries  of  agony ;  and 
crouching  in  mortal  fear,  now  on  one  side  of  the 
bed  and  then  on  the  other,  and  trembling  with 
horror  till  the  bedstead  shakes  and  trembles  too, 
he  tells  those  who  crowd  around  him  that  the  room 
is  full  of  devils  who  are  come  to  carry  him  away. 
It  is  now  the  terrified  Avife  sends  off  to  request 
that  the  minister  will  be  kind  enough  to  come  to 
her  immediately,  and  the  message  reaches  him  in 
the  form  already  described. 

It  is  a  fearful  spectacle  upon  which  his  atten- 
tion is  fixed.  Shriek  after  shriek  reaches  his  ear  as 
with  his  companion  he  ascends  the  stairs.  On  en- 
tering the  room  they  see  the  miserable  victim  of 
alcohol  stretched  upon  the  bed,  held  down  by  sev- 
eral persons  whom  the  poor  wife  has  been  com- 
pelled to  summon  to  her  aid.     The  countenance 


380         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

is  livid — almost  pux'ple  ;  the  eyes,  glaring  hideous- 
ly, seem  ready  to  start  from  their  sockets ;  inex- 
pressible horror  is  stamped  upon  every  feature ; 
and  large  drops  of  perspiration,  oozing  out  from 
every  pore,  bear  witness  to  the  terrible  excitement 
that  is  raging  within  and  must  soon  exhaust  the  vi- 
tal energies,  for  no  human  strength  can  long  endure 
such  a  degree  of  tension.  "  O,  Mr.  B. !"  cries  the 
sufferer  with  startling  energy  the  moment  he  catches 
sight  of  the  missionaries  entering  the  chamber,  and 
turning  toward  them  with  an  expression  of  agoniz- 
ing entreaty,  "  do  save  !  O,  do  save  me  !  There 
they  are  !  Don't  you  see  them  .''  O,  do  save  me  from 
them!  Do  save  me!  "  It  is  a  pitiable  scene  to 
look  upon,  that  man  laid  prostrate  by  the  destroyer 
in  the  prime  and  vigor  of  lusty,  youthful  manhood 
— for  he  could  scarcely  be  more  than  thirty-two 
years  of  age,  and  was  built  on  a  powerful  model — 
and  raging  in  the  paroxysm  of  the  most  aggravated 
type  of  delirium  tremens  !  In  the  softest  tones  of 
sympathizing  friendship  both  ministers  endeavor 
to  soothe  the  sufferer,  and  represent  to  him  that 
the  objects  of  his  fear  have  no  reality,  and  are  but 
the  creatures  of  a  disturbed  imagination.  But  it 
is  all  in  vain.  To  him  there  is  awful  reality  in 
them.  His  eyes  roll  in  terror  to  every  part  of  the 
room  as  he  shrinks,  first  in  one  direction  and  then 
in  another,  from  the  fearful  objects  which  that 
abused  brain  invests  with  shape,  and  substance, 
and  life,  and  which  no  other  eye  beholds.  The 
blood  of  those  present  seems  to  curdle  and  their 
flesh   to   creep    as   with    terrible    earnestness    he 


Blighted  Lives.  381 

rejects  all  remonstrance,  and  in  pitiable  agony  im- 
plores them  to  save  him.  Both  the  missionaries 
successively  engage  in  prayer,  holding  each  a  shiv- 
ering hand  as  they  kneel  at  the  bedside,  and  he 
clings  to  them  as  a  drowning  man  will  cling  in  his 
extremity  to  any  substance  he  can  lay  his  hands 
upon;  but  he  evidently  takes  in  nothing  of  the 
meaning  of  those  words  which  are  addressed  to 
the  throne  of  mercy  on  his  behalf.  His  eyes, 
straining  with  affright,  are  rolling  wildly,  now  to 
the  right,  now  to  the  left ;  now  up,  and  now  straight 
be'"ore  him.  Shrinking  as  though  he  would  push 
himself  through  the  mattress,  all  his  faculties  are 
occupied  in  following  about  the  room  the  crea- 
tures of  his  disordered  fancy.  And  O  !  it  is  a 
hard  thing  to  pray  at  a  death  scene  like  that ! 
We  may  not  place  any  limits  to  the  boundless  love 
and  mercy  to  sinners  of  the  infinitely  gracious 
God ;  but  what  hope  can  there  be  that  prayer  will 
be  heard,  that  mercy  can  be  exercised,  in  a  case 
like  that .? 

It  is,  however,  our  duty  to  pray ;  and  earnest 
and  importunate,  and  attended  by  many  tears,  are 
the  supplications  that  go  up  from  that  death  cham- 
ber ;  and  hearty  is  the  amen  that  now  and  again 
drops  from  the  lips  of  those  who  kneel  around  as 
the  missionaries  plead  with  the  Friend  of  sinners 
for  the  dying  man.  Dying  he  is,  and  the  vail  is 
already  dropping  that  is  to  shut  out  from  him  all 
the  scenes  of  this  life  forever.  He  has  been  some- 
what less  violent  since  the  ministers  of  religion 
appeared  at  his  bedside,  and  his  cries   for  help 


382         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

have  been  less  agonizing;  but  there  is  no  indica- 
tion that  he  has  for  a  single  moment  realized  the 
idea  which  has  been  presented  to  and  urged  upon 
him  of  looking  to  the  Almighty  Saviour  for  help. 
His  shattered  faculties  are  incapable  of  such  exer- 
tion as  would  enable  him  now,  at  this  last  hour,  to 
turn  to  the  Crucified,  and  lay  his  sins  at  the  foot- 
stool of  mercy.  The  imagination,  dominant  over 
all  the  other  faculties,  is  reveling  in  horrors.  It 
has  peopled  the  death  chamber  with  specters  and 
goblins  and  horrible  shapes  from  another  world ; 
and  as  these  appear  to  him  to  flit  about  and  grin 
and  mock  his  misery,  and  threaten  to  fall  upon 
him  and  bear  him  away,  he  can  think  of  nothing 
else.  Soothing  remonstrance,  entreaty,  prayer, 
all  are  lost  upon  him ;  and  the  awful  words  of  in- 
spired truth  come  with  irresistible  force  upon  the 
minds  of  some  who  look  upon  that  thrilling  spec- 
tacle :  "  The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended, 
and  we  are  not  saved."  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
avoid  the  conviction  that  this  is  the  case  with  that 
poor  ruined,  wretched  victim  of  a  vicious  habit, 
whose  spirit,  without  one  ray  of  hope  dawning  upon 
it,  is  trembling  upon  the  confines  of  another  world. 
A  terrible  scene  is  the  chamber  of  the  dying,  when 
there  is  no  peace  of  God  to  sustain,  no  hope  of 
eternal  life  to  bless  and  cheer  the  soul  that  is 
passing  to  an  unchanging  destiny. 

Two  or  three  hours  have  elapsed  since  the  min- 
isters of  religion  entered  the  room,  and  the  hour 
is  at  hand  when  the  public  service  of  the  sanctua- 
ry requires  their  presence.     But  it  is  difficult  to 


Blighted  Lives.  383 

gel  away.  "  Don't  go  !  don't  leave  me  !  "  shrieks 
the  dying  man ;  and  he  clings  to  them  with  the 
energy  of  despair.  They  remind  him  that  it  is 
the  usual  evening  for  public  service,  and  promise 
to  return  immediately  after  its  close,  but  he  holds 
on  with  all  the  tenacity  of  which  his  fast-failing 
strength  is  capable.  Again  they  kneel  down  for  a 
few  moments,  and  commend  the  sufferer  to  God  in 
prayer  and  depart,  purposing  to  shorten  the  service, 
and  hasten  back  to  do  what  they  can  to  alleviate 
the  horrors  of  the  scene  they  have  unwillingly 
quitted.  Knowing  that  patients  of  that  class  do 
sometimes  rally,  from  a  condition  of  great  apparent 
extremity,  they  have  no  apprehension  that  the  end 
is  so  near  as  the  event  shows  it  to  be.  The  service 
occupies  but  an  hour,  and  without  losing  a  mo- 
ment, as  soon  as  it  is  ended  they  hasten  to  the 
house  of  mourning.  But  the  curtain  has  fallen, 
and  the  tragedy  is  closed.  They  are  surprised, 
startled,  shocked,  as  they  enter  the  house,  to  re- 
ceive the  intelligence  that  the  spirit,  with  all  its 
dread  accountability  attaching  to  it,  has  just  that 
moment  fled  to  the  presence  of  its  Maker. 

They  enter  the  room,  and  a  senseless  heap  of 
clay  is  all  that  remains  of  the  man  they  left  there 
so  lately.  The  trembling  of  the  limbs  has  ceased  ; 
the  straining  eyeballs  have  shrunk  back  into  their 
sockets,  and  the  lids  are  closed  over  them ;  the 
livid,  purple  features  of  the  countenance,  lately  so 
fearfully  agitated,  have  settled  in  the  stillness  of 
death,  and  a  friend  is  tying  a  white  cambric 
handkerchief  round  the  head  to  support  the  fallen 


384         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

jaw.  From  the  moment  the  ministers  left  the 
room,  the  loud  shrieks  of  the  sufferer  recom- 
menced, and  pointing  here  and  there,  all  round 
the  room,  to  the  frightful  creatures  of  his  imagi- 
nation, he  crouched  from  one  side  of  the  bed  to 
the  other,  and  would  have  thrown  himself  off  it 
had  he  not  been  forcibly  held  down.  In  agony- 
most  distressing  to  behold  he  continued  to  call 
upon  those  around  him  to  save  him  from  them, 
until  his  strength  became  exhausted.  At  length, 
convulsed  and  shaking  in  every  part  of  his  body, 
he  sank  into  a  state  of  comparative  quietude, 
gasping,  and  his  eyes  staring  and  rolling  about  the 
room,  until  a  short  time  before  the  ministers  re- 
turned to  the  house,  when  all  the  powers  of  life 
suddenly  collapsed,  the  spirit  passed  to  its  desti- 
ny, and  the  life  so  sadly  abused — such  a  woeful 
mistake — came  to  an  end.  There  was  one,  at 
least,  of  those  who  looked  upon  that  mournful 
scene  who  turned  away  from  it  realizing,  as  he  had 
never  done  before,  the  awfulness  of  a  life  blasted 
by  intemperance,  and  resolving  that  his  example 
and  influence  through  life  should  be  given  to  dis- 
countenance the  use  of  those  fluids  which  often 
prove  to  be  a  deadly  snare,  and  produce  results 
so  fatal  to  the  happiness  and  well-being  of  man. 

Three  years  have  passed  away  and  the  young 
pastor  has  been  transferred  to  a  new  and  distant 
scene  of  labor,  still  within  the  shores  of  "the  land 
of  springs,"  and  surrounded  with  the  stirring,  busy 
life  of  a  large  city.  It  is  the  peaceful  Sabbath  aft- 
ernoon, when  a  message  reaches  him  in  his  study 


Blighted  Lives.  38$ 

that  brings  before  his  mind  a  vivid  recollection  of 
the  painfully  interesting  incidents  related  above. 
"  Mrs.  L.  will  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  go 
and  see  Mr.  L.,  who  has  had  a  fit,  and  is  very  ill." 
Such  was  the  message  ;  so  similar  in  its  import  to 
the  one  received  by  him  a  few  years  ago,  which 
had  left  an  impression  burned,  as  it  were,  into  his 
memory  by  the  shocking  scenes  of  which  it  was 
the  precursor.  Like  a  series  of  dissolving  views, 
all  the  sad  incidents  of  that  evening  rise  and  pass 
with  terrible  distinctness  before  his  mind ;  for  he 
can  scarcely  doubt,  from  his  knowledge  of  the 
person  concerned,  that  it  is  another  case  of  the 
same  mournful  character  to  which  his  attention  is 
now  to  be  directed. 

But  ah !  this  is  even  more  sad,  in  one  of  its 
aspects,  than  the  other,  for  this  is  the  wreck  of  a 
pious  life,  a  blighted  career  of  Christian  useful- 
ness, the  shocking  example  of  a  minister  of  relig- 
ion fallen,  dishonored,  destroyed  by  the  vice  of 
intemperance.  Like  the  noble  forest  tree  that 
has  been  stricken  by  lightning,  divested  of  every 
sign  of  life  and  verdure,  blackened,  shattered,  and 
charred,  a  majestic  ruin  of  what  once  was  beauti- 
ful to  look  upon,  now  a  mournful  spectacle  to 
contemplate  ;  here  is  one  who  was  a  tree  of  right- 
eousness, planted  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord's 
house,  verdant,  fruitful,  full  of  promise  for  the 
future,  and  lovely  to  the  eye  that  looked  upon  it ; 
but  it  has  been  blasted  by  intemperance,  and  it 
has  been  standing  for  some  years  in  its  blackened 
deformity,  a  monitory  example  of  human  frailty, 


386         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

until  the  time  has  come  for  the  great  Master  to 
say,  "  Cut  it  down  !  " 

Some  twelve  or  thirteen  years  ago  Mr.  L.  came, 
with  another  fellow-laborer,  to  take  part  in  the 
work    of    spreading    Christian    truth    among    the 
wronged  and  suffering  children  of  Africa  in  this 
slave   land,    and   build   up   the  Churches   which, 
through    God's    blessing,    had    been    raised    here 
under  the  fostering  care  of  one  of  the  missionary 
institutions  of  the  mother  country.     He  was  young, 
but  he  had  been  brought  to  God  in  his  youth,  and 
gave  evidence  of  more  than  ordinary  devotedness 
to  the  Master  whose  service  he  had  chosen.     After 
the  usual  preparation   and  examinations,  he  was 
sent  to  share  the  labors  and  persecutions  of  breth- 
ren in  these  isles  of  the  west,  where  oppression 
and  intolerance  had  made  their  home.     Entering 
upon  the  sphere  of  toil  assigned  to  him,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  his  work  with  untiring  zeal,  and  won 
for  himself  in  a  high  degree  the  love  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  respect  and  confidence  of  his  fellow- 
laborers.     But  his  sphere  of  labor  lay  in  a  district 
of  the  inland  where  exhalations  from  wide-spread- 
ing  swamps   and   lagoons   impregnate  the  atmos- 
phere with  the  subtle  poison,  which   infects  the 
blood,  and   sends  it  rushing  through  the  system 
with  accelerated  force  and  fever  heat,  drying  up 
the  springs  of  life,  and  often  sending  its  victims 
with   startling   rapidity  to  the   grave.     Not  many 
months  had  elapsed  when  the  overpowering  sense 
of  weariness,  the  racking  headache  and  throbbing 
of  the  temples,  with  heavy  pain  across  the  loins, 


Blighted  Lives.  387 

indicated  too  surely  that  the  fever  had  laid  its 
blighting  grasp  upon  him,  and  that  the  seasoning 
was  at  hand.  Through  all  the  torturing  processes 
of  bleeding,  blistering,  salivation, 'and  physicking 
to  which  fever  patien's  were  in  those  days  sub- 
jected by  blundering  medical  practitioners — often 
more  surely  cutting  short  the  days  of  the  sufferer 
than  the  disease  itself — the  young  missionary 
writhed  and  tossed  and  groaned  until  the  fever 
had  run  its  course.  Assisted  by  a  vigorous  and 
wiry  constitution,  and  not  depressed  by  the  fears 
and  anxieties  which  often  give  fatal  potency  to 
the  fell  disorder,  he  struggled  through  it,  and 
woke  up  one  fine  morning,  after  the  crisis  had 
been  followed  by  several  hours  of  the  balmy,  re- 
freshing sleep,  to  which  he  had  long  been  a 
stranger,  free  from  the  fever,  but  feeble  and  help- 
less as  an  infant.  Sustained  through  the  collapse 
by  powerful  stimulants,  nature  slowly  resumed  her 
operations;  the  relaxed  muscles  and  nerves  re- 
covered somewhat  of  their  usual  tension,  and  the 
patient  was  restored  from  the  margin  of  the 
grave. 

Hitherto  he  had  always  stood  aloof  from  the 
use  of  those  stimulating  beverages  so  lavishly 
used  among  the  dominant  class  in  the  colony. 
But  the  smiling  disciple  of  ^sculapius,  who  had 
tended  him  through  all  the  fierce  attack,  as  he 
took  his  departure,  turning  over  his  patient  to 
the  nurses  and  the  cooks,  laid  it  down,  with  all 
the  authority  which  professionals  of  his  class  are 
too  often  unwisely  permitted  to  assume,  that  he 
25 


588         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

must  take  a  glass  or  two  of  good  wine  every  day, 
and  that  he  must  also  drink  a  little  brandy  and 
water  instead  of  the  lemonade  and  other  beverages 
of  that  innocent  class  he  had  previously  been  ac- 
customed to  use.  Multitudes  of  these  medical 
practitioners  have  themselves  been  the  victims  of 
the  delusion  that  ardent  spirits  are  essential  to  life 
in  a  tropical  climate,  and  the  writer  has  seen  not 
a  few  of  them — young  men  of  good  skill  and  prom- 
ise, and  desirous  of  doing  right — swept  to  an  early 
grave  by  means  of  the  alcoholic  poison,  victims 
themselves  of  ill-judged  advice,  while  they  have, 
by  similar  evil  counsel,  backed  with  the  influence 
of  professional  authority,  helped  to  multiply  the 
deluded  victims  of  intemperance.  "  What  the 
doctor  says  must  be  right ;"  and  the  young  mis- 
sionary, willing  to  be  directed  by  the  teachings  of 
experience  in  those  matters  in  which  he  could  not 
rely  upon  his  own  judgment  to  guide  him,  con- 
sented to  act  upon  the  instructions  given  to  him. 

The  temperance  movement  was  not  yet  direct- 
ing men's  minds  to  the  wide-spreading  evils  re- 
sulting from  the  use  of  alcoholic  beverages,  and 
the  dangers  that  lie  hidden  in  what  are  regarded 
as  the  proper  and  innocent  customs  of  society, 
and  giving  salutary  warnings,  illustrated  by  thou- 
sands of  impressive  examples,  of  the  insidious 
character  of  such  counsel  as  that  given  by  the 
doctor  to  his  restored  patient.  It  would  have 
been  well  for  him  had  it  been  so,  for  he  might 
then  have  been  on  his  guard,  and  mistrusted  the 
pernicious  advice.     But  with  unsuspecting  confi- 


Blighted  Lives.  389 

dence  he  adopted  the  practice  so  strongly  recom- 
mended, and  it  proved  to  be  a  first  step  in  the 
road  to  ruin.  In  many  cases  the  evil  appetite  for 
strong  drink  increases  rapidly  as  it  is  ministered 
to,  and  the  dangerous  habit  becomes  in  time  a 
master  passion.  One  of  the  early  results  in  this 
young  minister  of  acting  on  the  dangerous  counsel 
given  to  him  was  to  slacken  his  zeal  for  useful- 
ness, the  next  to  darken  and  beguile  his  judg- 
ment, leading  him  to  form  a  marriage  without  due 
consideration,  and  with  one  who  possessed  few 
or  none  of  those  qualifications  which  might  make 
her  a  help-meet  for  him  in  the  great  work  to  which 
he  had  solemnly  devoted  his  life.  Then,  greatly 
lowered  in  the  estimation  of  his  fellow-laborers, 
and  falling  more  and  more  under  the  terrible  in- 
fluences which  were  fast  enslaving  him,  his  vows 
forgotten,  and  his  responsibilities  lost  sight  of,  his 
work  was  thrown  up,  his  pastoral  charge  resigned, 
and  he  ceased  to  belong  to  the  missionary  band 
who,  for  the  advancement  of  their  noble  enter- 
prise, were  contending  with  combinations  of  fierce 
intolerance  and  persecution,  and  suffering,  in  some 
instances,  even  imprisonment  and  death. 

Through  several  years  the  debasing  habit,  which 
had  vitiated  his  character  and  wrecked  his  piety, 
was  continued,  and  gradually  acquired  all  the 
strength  of  a  ruling  passion,  under  the  dominance 
of  which  he  sank  into  deeper  degradation,  until  he 
became  an  object  of  scorn  to  many  and  of  pity  to 
others,  who  knew  and  respected  him  in  the  days 
when  his  character  and  life  were  pure  and  spotless, 


390         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  devoted  with  untiring  zeal  to  the  work  of 
doing  good  to  others.  Friends  endeavored,  by 
kindly  remonstrance  and  counsel,  to  save  him 
from  the  snare  of  the  evil  one.  But  it  is  no  easy 
matter  for  one  who  is  sunk  so  low  in  his  own  esteem, 
and  in  the  estimation  of  others,  to  recover  him- 
self. In  the  present  instance  it  was  the  case  of 
one  tied  and  bound,  by  the  power  of  an  evil  habit 
and  a  vicious  appetite,  as  with  fetters  of  brass. 
On  all  the  earth  there  is  not  a  being  more  help- 
less and  more  degraded  than  the  self-made  slave 
of  intemperance.  It  is  sound  jiractical  wisdom,  as 
it  is  the  exercise  of  the  truest  benevolence,  which, 
in  the  United  States,  has  led  to  the  establishment 
of  institutions  or  asylums  where  intemperance  is 
dealt  with  as  a  species  of  mania,  and  a  system  ot 
treatment  is  pursued  toward  multitudes,  sensible 
of  their  own  helplessness,  and  voluntarily  submit- 
ting to  it,  or  placed  under  it  by  kind  and  loving 
friends,  which  is  most  effectual  in  checking  them 
in  the  downward  road  to  ruin.  But  no  benevo- 
lent institution  of  this  class  is  to  be  found  here, 
and  the  course  of  death  is  pursued  to  the  end. 

And  the  end  has  now  come.  With  a  vivid  re- 
membrance of  the  former  sad  case,  the  young 
missionary  feels  that  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost ; 
and  accompanying  the  messenger  to  the  house  she 
has  come  from,  he  soon  finds  himself  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  sufferer,  who,  as  in  the  former  instance, 
has  been  suddenly  smitten  down  with  that  fell 
disease,  delirium  tremens. 

This  is  in  some  respects  different  from  the  for- 


Blighted  Lives.  391 

mer  case.  Entering  the  large  sitting-room,  which 
is  called  the  hall,  the  wretched  man  is  seen  lying 
upon  a  mattress  placed  upon  the  floor  in  the  center 
of  the  room,  all  the  doors  and  windows  being  wide 
open,  to  give  him  as  much  air  as  possible.  A 
cool,  delicious  sea-breeze  is  sweeping  through  the 
room.  Several  friends  are  around  the  bed  ;  and 
the  wife  and  another  person  are  sitting,  one  on 
either  side,  applying  cloths  dipped  in  vinegar  to 
the  head  of  the  patient,  and  bathing  his  forehead 
and  temples  with  Eau-de-Cologne.  The  wretched 
victim  lies  on  his  back,  speechless,  and  apparently 
unconscious ;  but  he  is  in  strong  convulsions, 
trembling  violently  from  head  to  foot ;  the  features 
twitching ;  the  eyes  prominent,  wide  open  and 
staring,  but  fixed  in  such  a  way  as  to  indicate  that 
they  perceive  nothing  ;  and  the  whole  countenance 
bearing  such  an  expression  of  horror  and  anguish 
that  it  is  frightful  to  look  upon.  It  forces  upon 
the  mind  thoughts  of  those  who  are  lost  and 
abandoned  to  despair,  and  it  makes  that  young 
missionary's  soul  shrink  and  tremble  within  him 
as  he  looks  upon  it  and  thinks  of  the  past. 

The  account  which  he  gathers  from  the  anxious 
wife  is,  that  Mr.  L.  had  not  been  well  for  some 
days,  though  able  to  get  about ;  and  he  could  take 
no  food.  He  swallowed  nothing  but  the  poisonous 
stimulants  which  had  done  so  much  to  destroy 
him.  He  had  risen  later  than  usual  that  morning, 
and  was  preparing  to  go  to  public  worship,  when 
he  suddenly  dropped  upon  the  floor  in  strong 
convulsions.     The  doctor  had  been  sent  for,  and 


392        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

had  prescribed  blisters,  and  such  other  remedies 
as  he  thought  proper.  They  had  brought  him  out 
of  the  bedroom  into  the  hall,  by  the  doctor's 
order  ;  but  the  convulsions  had  continued  without 
abatement,  and  Mr.  L.  had  never  spoken  a  word 
since  the  attack  came  on  ;  nor  had  he  given  the 
slightest  indication  that  he  was  conscious  of  any 
thing  taking  place  around,  but  had  continued 
in  the  state  in  which  the  minister  then  beheld 
him. 

No  language  can  describe  the  feelings  with  which 
he  stands  and  looks  upon  that  fearful  spectacle. 
In  silence  he  contemplates  the  horror-stricken  face, 
the  quivering  limbs,  the  panting  frame,  the  glaring 
eye-balls  fixed  upon  vacancy,  and  he  thinks  of 
what  that  dying  man  once  was  when,  in  the  prime 
of  youthful  piety,  he  devoted  himself  to  work  for 
God.  He  thinks  of  what  he  might  have  been  in 
the  Church  on  earth,  and  when  joined  to  the  shin- 
ing host  of  the  Church  above,  if  he  had  not  un- 
happily turned  aside  from  the  path  of  rectitude 
and  peace.  He  thinks  of  what  he  had  become  as 
he  lies  there,  a  miserable  moral  wreck,  cast  down, 
polluted,  destroyed  by  strong  drink.  And  he 
thinks — no,  he  dares  not  pursue  the  train  of 
thought,  and  dwell  upon  the  awful  future  in  con- 
nection with  the  ruin  stretched  beneath  his  eye  ; 
for  it  does  not  belong  to  him  to  look  into  the 
future,  and  speculate  upon  the  destiny  of  that 
immortal  being.  Is  not  that  spirit,  though  be- 
guiled, corrupted,  misled  by  treacherous  influences, 
in  the  hands  and  at  the  disposal  of  one  whose  love 


Blighted  Lives.  393 

and  mercy  are  boundless.  And  who  can  say  how- 
far  that  yearning  love  may  stretch  out  a  gracious 
hand  to  pluck  the  priceless  gem  of  a  blood-bought 
spirit  from  irremediable  ruin  and  woe  ?  Who  but 
the  Omniscient  One  knows  what  gracious  thoughts 
and  feelings,  awakened  by  himself,  were  asso- 
ciated with  the  desire  and  intention  to  repair  to 
the  sanctuary  which  was  so  fearfully  interrupted  ? 
And  who  can  say  whether  there  is  not,  in  that  con- 
vulsed and  shaking  frame,  though  apparently  un- 
conscious of  things  around,  and  incapable  of  com- 
munication with  this  lower  world,  a  spirit  moved 
by  gracious  impulses  to  look  with  penitence  and 
prayer  to  the  infinite  mercy  of  Him  who,  when  the 
weight  of  a  world's  guilt  and  woe  was  pressing  on 
his  own  soul  on  the  cross,  was  even  then  stretching 
out  the  hand  of  power  and  love  to  snatch  the  soul 
of  a  dying  malefactor  from  the  bitter  pains  of 
eternal  death  ?  Resolving  to  hope  against  hope, 
and  looking  to  and  relying  upon  the  unlimited 
goodness  and  grace  of  the  sinner's  Friend,  the 
missionary  endeavors  to  arrest  the  sufferer's  atten- 
tion as  he  kneels  upon  the  bed  by  his  side.  The 
effort  is  vain.  No  sign  indicates  that  he  hears  a 
word  of  what  is  addressed  to  him.  But  the 
Saviour's  ears  are  not  heavy  that  he  cannot  hear ; 
his  arm  is  not  shortened  that  he  cannot  save ; 
and  to  him  appeal  is  made,  and  earnest  are  the 
prayers  which  go  up  to  him  from  the  bedside  of 
the  dying  man.  Late  in  the  evening,  and  later  in 
the  night,  the  visit  is  repeated ;  and  prayer  is 
again  made  to  the  Divine    Helper  to  bless  and 


394         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

save  the  departing  sinner.  Still  there  is  no  appar- 
ent change  in  the  condition  of  the  sufferer;  the 
trembling  of  the  limbs,  the  staring  of  the  eyes  on 
vacant  space,  the  expression  of  anguish  and  terror 
upon  the  countenance,  continue.  But  the  end  is 
nigh;  another  day  is  not  to  dawn  and  behold  him 
among  the  living.  After  midnight  the  convulsions 
increase  in  violence ;  and  before  any  streak  of 
light  appears  upon  the  eastern  horizon,  after  a 
dreadful  paroxysm,  the  quivering  body  settles  into 
quietude,  the  jaw  drops,  and  life  ebbs  away. 
Friendly  hands  close  the  ghastly  eyes  ;  and  the 
spirit,  with  all  its  dread  accountability,  is  with  God. 
Standing  over  the  grave  prematurely  open  to  re- 
ceive the  blighted  form  before  it  had  reached  the 
prime  of  lusty  manhood,  the  young  missionary, 
whose  duty  it  is  to  read  the  solemn  service  over 
the  dead,  ponders  in  his  own  heart  those  counsels 
of  heavenly  wisdom  to  which  the  scene  before  him 
seems  to  give  terrible  point  and  energy:  "Be  not 
high-minded,  but  fear."  "Let  him  that  thinketh 
he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall." 


Happy  Deaths.  395 


XX. 

Happy  Deaths. 

When  faith  is  strong'  and  conscience  clear, 
And  words  of  peace  the  spirit  cheer, 
And  visioned  glories  half  appear, 

"Tis  triumph,  then,  to  die. — Mks.  Barbauld. 

FORMER  paper  contained  sketches  of 
"  blighted  lives,"  the  melancholy  results  of 
intemperate  habits,  by  which  so  many  are 
ensnared  and  ruined.  In  the  same  missionary's 
experience  there  are  memories  of  scenes  and  in- 
cidents which  present  a  delightful  contrast  with 
the  sad  histories  there  described — death-bed 
scenes  which  impressively  illustrate  the  beauty  of 
Christian  holiness  and  the  power  of  Divine  grace, 
and  show  how 

"  The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate 

Is  privileged  beyond  the  common  walks  of  virtuous  life, 

Quite  on  the  verge  of  heaven." 

As  the  reverse  of  those  darkly  shaded  pictures 
that  have  been  presented,  two  others  are  selected 
from  a  multitude  of  cases  witnessed  by  him  in 
the  Caribbean  Isles,  exhibiting  the  gladdening 
spectacle  of  the  Christian  triumphing  over  death, 
and  shedding  a  flood  of  beauteous  light  upon  the 


39^         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

record  of  inspired  truth  :  "  Mark  the  perfect  man, 
and  behold  the  upright :  for  the  end  of  that  man 
is  peace." 

*'  I  have  come  to  tell  you,  minister,  that  Father 
Harris  is  sick.     I   have  been  to  see  him,  and  I 
think  he  will  soon  be  going  home.     He  told  me 
he  would  be  glad   to  see  minister."     Such  were 
the   words  addressed   to    the  missionary  already 
spoken  of  by  one  of  the  most  devoted  and  intelli- 
gent females  among  the  three  hundred  class-leaders 
who,  in  the  city  of  Kingston,  looked  to  him  as  the 
pastor  in  charge  of  the   several  societies.     Some 
six  years  have  elapsed  since,  in  that  city,  he  stood 
and  wept  and  prayed  over  the  death-bed  of  the 
second  victim  of  delirium  tremens^  three  of  which 
have  been  spent  among  the  magnificent  mountains 
of  St.  Ann's  Parish,  where  the  perfection  of  rural 
beauty  prevails  in  this  region  of  perennial  summer 
from  January  to  December.     But,  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  Divine  Providence,  he  has  been  appointed 
to  a  second  term  of  service  in  the  more  arduous 
and  wasting  duties  of  the  city,  and  few  days  pass 
in  which  he  is  not  called  upon  to  kneel  at  the  bed- 
side of  the  sick  or  dying,  and  these  are  not  un- 
frequently  scenes  of  glorious  victory  over  death. 
Such  is  likely  to  be  the  case  with  the  one  to  which 
he  is  now  summoned ;  for  Father   Harris    is  the 
oldest    member   of   the    Methodist    Churches   in 
Jamaica,  the  only  surviving  member  of  the  first 
class  formed  in  Kingston  by  Dr.  Coke,  nearly  sixty 
years  ago ;  during   all  which   time  he  has  walked 
with  God,  like  Enoch,  commanding  the  veneration 


Happy  DeatJis.  397 

of  some,  and  the  respect  of  all  who  knew  hhn,  as  a 
pattern  of  Christian  simplicity,  integrity,  and 
zeal. 

When  Dr.  Coke,  after  preaching  once  or  twice, 
and  provoking  the  hostility  of  a  godless  multitude 
against  himself,  as  a  minister  of  the  truth,  an- 
nounced his  intention  to  form  into  a  society  those 
who  desired  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  Will- 
iam Harris  was  the  second  to  step  forward  and 
present  himself  as  a  candidate  for  admission.  A 
few  simple  questions  elicited  the  information  he 
wished  to  obtain,  and  Dr.  Coke  enrolled  Mr.  Har- 
ris as  one  of  eight  who  constituted  the  earliest 
Methodist  society  and  the  germ  of  the  goodly 
Methodist  Churches  which  have  grown  up  and 
flourished  in  the  face  of  abundant  persecution  in 
"  the  land  of  springs."  He  is  a  black  man,  born 
of  slave  parents  in  the  United  States ;  who,  hav- 
ing adhered  to  the  British  side  during  the  Revolu- 
tionary War,  obtained  his  freedom,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  struggle  emigrated  to  Jamaica,  preferring 
to  live  under  the  protection  of  the  British  flag. 
He  had  been  a  member  of  the  Baptist  colored 
Church  in  America,  and  had  been  so  far  brought 
under  religious  influence  as  to  cherish  a  sincere 
desire  to  live  a  godly  life.  But  here  in  Jamaica 
he  found  no  Christian  friends  to  confer  with,  no 
Christian  teachers  that  could  give  him  counsel. 
It  is  true,  the  colony  had  been  divided  into  par- 
ishes, and  there  were  men  who  derived  emolu- 
ment from  them  as  a  state-paid  clergy ;  but  they 
were    all    slaveholders,    who    had    accepted    the 


398         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

sacred  ofifice  for  its  salary,  and  who  looked  upon 
those  guilty  of  being  born  with  a  dark  complexion 
as  no  part  of  their  charge,  and  would  just  as  soon 
have  thought  of  giving  pastoral  attention  to  their 
own  carriage-horses  as  to  the  slaves  or  free  black 
and  colored  people  around  them.  It  was  a  land 
covered  with  darkness  and  sin.  When,  therefore, 
William  Harris  heard  that  a  minister  of  religion 
had  arrived  and  was  to  preach  in  High  Holborn- 
street,  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  repair  to  the  ap- 
pointed spot.  With  joy  he  listened  to  the  messen- 
ger of  heaven.  His  whole  soul  was  melted  and 
stirred  within  him  by  the  plain,  earnest  appeals  of 
the  preacher.  Here  was  what  he  wanted  above 
all  things  on  earth  ;  one  who  could  tell  him  about 
salvation  and  heaven.  For  years  he  had  been 
longing  and  praying  for  this,  and  now  God  had 
heard  and  answered  his  prayers.  When,  there- 
fore, Dr.  Coke  invited  those  to  confer  with  him 
who  were  willing  to  be  united  together  in  Chris- 
tian fellowship,  the  black  American  emigrant  was 
the  second  to  respond  and  present  himself  for  ac- 
ceptance, the  first  being  a  white  lady,  a  Mrs. 
Smith.  Like  William  Harris,  she  had  been  for 
years  looking  and  longing  for  that  light  to  reach 
Jamaica  which,  she  knew,  was  spreading  in  the 
favored  land  she  had  left  some  years  before,  where 
she  had  listened  to  the  Wesleys  and  other  men  of 
God  he,  in  his  wisdom  and  love,  called  forth  to 
wake  up  a  slumbering  Church  and  world. 

Nearly  all  the  different  shades  of  color  were 
represented  in  that  little  band  of  eight  persons 


Happy  Deaths.  399 

whom  the  missionary  doctor  enrolled  as  the  first 
Methodist  Church  in  Jamaica :  Mrs.  Smith,  a 
white  matron;  William  Harris,  a  black  emigrant; 
Catherine  Dawson,  a  free  mulatto  woman ;  with 
representatives  of  the  quadroon  and  Mestee  classes 
— types  of  those  multitudes  of  all  classes  and  col- 
ors who  were  afterward  to  be  won  from  the  world 
and  given  to  Christ.  Made  wise  unto  salvation, 
and  rejoicing  in  the  experience  and  privileges  of 
the  children  of  God,  several  of  these  advanced 
rapidly  in  the  spiritual  life,  and  on  a  subsequent 
visit  of  Dr.  Coke  to  the  island,  Mrs.  Smith  and 
William  Harris  were  appointed  as  class-leaders,  to 
give  religious  counsel  to  the  multiplying  inquirers 
after  the  things  of  God — the  first  who  held  that 
office  in  the  Methodist  Churches  of  Jamaica. 

After  some  years  of  loving  toil  for  Christ,  carried 
on  in  the  face  of  much  persecution  and  reproach, 
Mrs.  Smith,  a  true  mother  in  Israel — a  fine  exam- 
ple of  the  devoted  Christian  lady — finished  a  life 
of  brilliant  usefulness  by  a  death  of  holy  triumph, 
and  passed  within  the  vail  to  await  there,  in  the 
presence  of  Jesus,  the  crown  and  the  reward  to 
be  given  her  when  wondrous  grace,  undying  joy, 
and  endless  triumph  and  glory  will  be  brought  to 
the  saints  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ,  while 
her  mantle  rested  upon  others  of  kindred  spirit. 
But  William  Harris  lived  on,  and  for  five  and  fifty 
years  performed,  with  untiring  zeal  and  with  great 
intelligence  and  success,  the  duties  of  a  class- 
leader.  Hundreds  have  been  assisted  and  en- 
couraged by  his  wise  and  judicious  counsels  to 


400        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

come  to  Christ ;  and  he  has  exhibited  the  power 
and  beauty  of  religion  in  a  perfectly  blameless 
life,  and  by  the  meek,  quiet  activities  of  self-deny- 
ing zeal  and  love,  which  seem  even  now  to  crown 
his  head,  white  with  the  snows  of  ninety  years  and 
upward,  with  a  halo  of  glory. 

The  missionary's  steps  are  speedily  bent  toward 
one  of  the  eastern  streets  of  the  city,  where  he 
knows — for  he  has  often  been  there  before — the 
lowly,  comfortable  cottage  of  William  Harris  to 
be  situated  in  a  pleasant  and  quiet  locality.  He 
enters  a  house  neatly  furnished  and  scrupulously 
clean,  where  a  tasteful  arrangement  of  sundry 
glass  and  china  ornaments,  and  specimens  of  na- 
tive skill  and  natural  curiosities,  exhibit  traces 
of  womanly  care  and  refinement.  A  daughter  of 
the  good  old  patriarch,  no  longer  in  the  bloom  of 
youth,  advances  to  meet  him  as  he  appears  at  the 
open  door,  and  after  a  few  words  of  respectful  sal- 
utation, ushers  him  into  the  room  where  the  vet- 
eran soldier  of  the  cross  is  about  to  lay  down  hi? 
weapons  and  pass  away  to  the  better  land,  saying 
like  the  conquering  apostle,  "  I  have  fought  the 
good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept 
the  faith."  The  room  is  furnished  with  some  taste 
and  a  due  regard  to  comfort,  the  bedstead  and 
most  of  the  principal  articles  being  made  of  the 
superior  mahogany  which  the  country  produces. 
There,  stretched  upon  sheets  as  white  as  the  driv- 
en snow,  and  surrounded  by  comforts  which  many 
loving  hearts  are  anxious  to  provide  for  him,  lies 
the  patient.     "  I  am  happy  to  see  you,  minister," 


Happy  Deaths.  401 

he  says,  lifting  his  hand  withered  by  age,  and  now- 
weakened  by  disease,  to  take  that  of  his  visitor ; 
"  I  am  going  home ;  my  work  is  done,  and  Jesus 
is  taking  me  to  himself."  It  is  even  so.  A  cold 
taken  a  few  days  ago  has  resulted  in  fever,  and 
there  is  little  ground  to  hope  that  the  frame  now 
weakened  and  reduced  by  age  can  resist  and 
overcome  the  shock.  He  feels  a  conviction  that 
the  sickness  is  unto  death,  and  that  he  will  never 
leave  the  bed  on  which  he  lies  until  friendly 
hands  shall  bear  him  to  his  last  resting-place  in 
the  dust. 

The  missionary  enters  into  conversation  with 
him,  and  the  goodness  and  love  of  Jesus  to  him  as 
a  sinner,  the  preciousness  of  Jesus  to  him  in  this 
time  of  sickness,  and  the  joys  and  glories  of  the 
home  he  is  approaching,  are  the  topics  on  which 
he  delights  to  dwell,  the  dark  ashy  countenance, 
paled  by  sickness,  seeming  to  light  up  with  more 
than  earthly  joy  as  with  feeble  voice  and  broken 
utterances  he  refers  to  them. 

As  the  missionary  looks  upon  that  dying  old 
man  so  happy  and  triumphant,  now  that  death  and 
eternity  are  close  at  hand,  his  mind  goes  back  to 
a  widely  different  scene,  and  he  thinks  of  the  rav- 
ing maniac — the  miserable,  hopeless  victim  of  de- 
lirium tremens — to  behold  whose  death  scene  he 
was  summoned  in  another  part  of  the  island,  and 
he  feels  how  true  it  is,  "  Happy  is  the  man  that 
findeth  wisdom,  and  the  man  that  getteth  under- 
standing ....  Length  of  days  is  in  her  right  hand  ; 
and  in  her  left  hand  riches  and  honor  ....  She 


402         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

shall  give  to  thine  head  an  ornament  of  grace  : 
a  crown  of  glory  shall  she  deliver  to  thee." 
There  was  the  white  man,  the  wretched  victim  of 
a  debasing  habit,  sinking  (ah !  with  what  terrible 
reluctance)  to  the  grave  ;  his  life  curtailed,  his 
energies  blighted,  his  opportunities  wasted,  and 
his  soul,  there  is  every  reason  to  fear,  utterly 
ruined  and  lost.  Here  is  a  despised,  dark-skinned 
child  of  Africa,  who  has  wisely  chosen  in  early  life 
the  better  part  and  kept  himself  from  the  paths  of 
the  destroyer;  and  now,  after  a  long  life  given  to 
God's  service,  a  career  of  useful  toil  which  has 
conferred  eternal  benefit  upon  hundreds  of  im- 
mortal spirits,  and  an  example  lustrous  with  all 
the  beauties  of  holy  living,  extending  over  more 
than  half  a  century,  he  is  coming  to  the  end  of 
life  loved,  honored,  and  revered  by  a  multitude 
of  people,  sustained  with  the  richest  consolations 
of  Divine  grace  ;  not  a  shadow  of  distrust  or  fear 
upon  his  hallowed  spirit,  and  exulting  with  all  the 
energy  that  age  and  sickness  have  left  to  him  in 
the  sure  conviction  that  he  is  passing  away  to  share 
the  undying  joys  of  that  better  land  which  is  the 
home  of  the  saints  and  the  glorious  abode  of  an- 
gels and  of  God. 

The  progress  of  the  disease  is  not  rapid,  but  it 
is  surely  undermining  the  citadel  of  life,  already 
greatly  weakened  by  the  effects  of  time.  Two  or 
three  times  the  missionary  stands  at  that  bedside 
to  rejoice  with  the  exulting  saint,  and  join  with 
him  in  prayer  and  praise.  Multitudes  who  have 
long  known  his  godly  walk  and  conversation  would 


Happy  Deaths.  403 

fain  look  upon  the  dying  servant  of  the  Lord  and 
participate  in  his  joy  and  triumph.  Many  of  his 
Christian  associates  are  admitted  to  the  hallowed 
chamber,  and  none  depart  without  feeling  some- 
thing of  what  inspired  the  breast  of  him  who 
prayed  in  the  olden  time,  "  Let  me  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his !  " 
Three  or  four  days  suffice  to  bring  the  conflict  to 
an  end.  Death  conquers ;  but  it  is  only  the  frail, 
perishable  body  that  succumbs  to  his  power,  and 
that  only  for  the  appointed  season,  until  the  re- 
demption morning,  when  it  shall  come  forth  in 
immortal  life  and  beauty  from  the  grave.  The 
ransomed  and  purified  spirit  death  has  no  power 
to  touch.  Breathing  accents  of  love  and  triumph 
to  the  end,  the  mortal  frame  sinks  at  length  in  the 
collapse  of  death,  and  the  soul,  transcendently 
happy,  wings  its  flight  to  God.  On  the  following 
day,  attended  by  a  far-reaching  train  of  Christian 
friends,  the  wasted  remains  are  borne  to  the  old 
burial-ground,  to  be  deposited  in  the  dust  amid 
the  graves  of  hundreds  who  have  finished  their 
course  with  joy.  The  pastor,  whose  duty  it  is  to 
take  the  principal  part  in  the  last  offices  for  the 
dead,  while  the  loud  swell  of  the  funeral  hymn 
dies  on  the  lips  of  the  thousands  who  have  fol- 
lowed the  departed  saint  to  his  last  earthly  rest- 
ing place,  feels  how  sublimely  touching  and  true 
are  the  poetic  lines  in  which  the  great  minstrel 
of  Methodist  song  has  molded  the  apocalyptic 
announcement    concerning   the    Lord's    departed 

ones  : 

26 


404        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

"  Hark  !  a  voice  divides  the  sky  : — 

Happy  are  the  faithful  dead  ! 
In  the  Lord  who  sweetly  die, 

They  from  all  their  toils  are  freed ; 
Them  the  Spirit  hath  declared 

Blest,  unutterably  blest  ; 
Jesus  is  their  great  reward, 

Jesus  is  their  endless  rest." 

Side  by  side  with  the  senior  pastor  is  one  who 
is  soon  to  realize  in  his  own  happy  experience  all 
the  blessedness  to  which  these  glowing  words 
refer,  and  exhibit  in  the  triumphant  joy  of  an  un- 
clouded death-scene  an  impressive  contrast  to  the 
shame,  sadness,  and  terror,  not  to  say  despair, 
which  hung  darkly,  like  thick  clouds,  over  the 
close  of  that  life  referred  to  in  a  preceding  chap- 
ter, vitiated  and  cut  short  by  the  drink  fiend,  the 
opening  of  which  was  brilliant  with  the  promise  of 
missionary  usefulness.  He  has  taken  part  in  the 
solemn  service  just  concluded,  for  he,  too,  bears 
the  missionary  character,  and,  as  a  co-pastor  in 
the  circuit,  has  sympathized,  with  all  the  vigor 
of  an  ardent  soul,  in  the  Christian  joy  of  the 
blessed  old  man  who  has  just  passed  to  the  tri- 
umphant Church  before  the  throne  of  God.  He 
has  but  recently  arrived  at  the  ripeness  of  youth- 
ful manhood,  and  it  is  but  some  six  years  since  he 
entered  upon  his  missionary  work.  Born  in  a 
western  county  of  England,  where  earnest  piety 
abounds,  and  recommended  from  a  metropolitan 
circuit,  he  has  brought  with  him  an  earnest  spirit 
of  piety  and  a  devoted  zeal,  which   have   abun- 


Happy  Deaths.  405 

dantly  justified  the  selection  made  of  him  for  mis- 
sionary toil.  In  the  several  scenes  of  labor  in 
which  he  has  exercised  his  ministry,  his  cheerful, 
genial  piety,  and  loving,  tender  courtesy,  shown  to 
all  classes  and  all  ages  alike,  have  gained  for  him 
the  affections  of  thousands  of  loving  hearts,  so 
that  with  young  and  old  he  is  a  general  favorite ; 
while  his  laborious  zeal,  which  shrinks  from  no 
amount  of  labor,  and  the  power  of  God  which  at- 
tends his  lively  and  original  expositions  of  Divine 
truth,  render  him  to  all  his  brethren  a  desirable 
colleague.  Never  did  a  richer  unction  attend  his 
ministry,  never  did  he  live  more  fully  in  the  re- 
spect and  love  of  his  fellow-laborers,  than  at  the 
time  when  he  stands  with  them  over  the  open 
grave  of  good  old  William  Harris.  But  not  one 
of  that  company  of  ministers  anticipates  for  a  mo- 
ment that,  close  to  the  same  spot,  there  will  ere 
long  be  another  grave  opened,  and  the  same  sol- 
emn service  read  over  one  of  their  own  number, 
and  he  the  youngest  of  them  all. 

Yet  such  is  the  fact.  The  one  blemish  in  that 
devoted  servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  the  only  thing 
that  fastidiousness  itself  could  point  out  as  a  sub- 
ject of  blame,  is,  that  he  does  not  exercise  all  the 
prudential  care  for  the  preservation  of  health  that 
may  justly  be  regarded  as  a  religious  duty,  a  duty 
owing  to  himself,  his  young  wife  and  child,  and 
the  Church  of  God,  to  whose  service  he  has  con- 
secrated all  the  energies  he  may  possess,  and 
which,  therefore,  ought  to  be  preserved  and 
guarded  with  such  vigilance  as  higher  and  more 


4o6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

imperative  duties  will  permit.  Doubtless  there 
are  times  when  health,  family  considerations,  and 
even  life  itself,  are  all  to  be  disregarded  and  sacri- 
ficed in  the  great  Master's  service,  and  when  fidel- 
ity to  Christ  can  only  be  maintained  by  such  sacri- 
fice ;  but  neither  life  nor  health  ought  to  be  reck- 
lessly and  unnecessarily  lavished  and  wasted,  and 
a  career  of  usefulness  brought  prematurely  to  an 
end,  when  no  claims  of  duty  demand  that  it  should 
be  so. 

Here  is  the  infirmity  which  friendly,  loving  eyes 
see  cause  to  blame.  There  is  not,  as  in  some  un- 
happy instances  before  referred  to,  a  wicked,  will- 
ful waste  of  health  and  life  through  the  indulgence 
of  a  vicious  appetite,  for  total  abstinence  from  the 
use  of  alcohol  claims  him  as  one  of  its  staunch 
adherents.  No ;  it  is  that  he  is  too  prodigal  in 
expending  his  strength  for  God,  and  not  so  care- 
ful to  guard  against  unwholesome  influences  as  he 
might  be  without  detracting  in  the  very  smallest 
degree  from  the  efficiency  of  his  labors.  But  no 
doubt  such  an  infirmity  of  judgment — a  fault  lean- 
ing to  virtue's  side — may  well  find  excuse  in  the 
all-loving  One,  who  is  so  merciful  to  the  weak- 
nesses of  his  creatures.  To  this  it  is  justly  attrib- 
uted that,  after  a  short  career  of  usefulness,  he 
falls  under  the  influence  of  one  of  those  insidious 
diseases  of  the  tropics  so  fatal  to  human  life. 
Dysentery  in  an  aggravated  form  lays  him  pros- 
trate, and  most  reluctantly  for  a  season  he  is  con- 
strained to  relinquish  the  work  in  which  his  whole 
soul  is  absorbed.     By  medical  treatment  the  dire 


Happy  Deaths.  407 

disease  seems  to  be  checked,  but  before  nature 
has  been  allowed  sufificiently  to  rally  her  energies 
after  such  severe  prostration,  setting  aside  the 
kindly  remonstrances  of  anxious  friends,  and  the 
earnest  pleadings  of  a  loving  partner,  he  is  found 
giving  himself  up  as  freely  as  before  to  efforts  and 
journeys  which  are  beyond  his  partially  recruited 
strength.  The  consequence  is  a  relapse.  With 
intensified  energy  the  fell  malady  returns  to  find 
its  victim,  enfeebled  by  the  former  attack,  less 
fitted  than  before  to  resist  its  enervating  power. 
The  best  medical  skill  available  is  exerted.  All 
that  warm  affection  can  dictate  is  done  to  arrest 
the  complaint  and  save  the  valued  patient.  But 
it  may  not  be.  One  paroxysm  of  intense  anguish 
succeeds  another  with  augmented  violence,  and  it 
becomes  too  evident  that  the  days  of  the  loved 
one  are  numbered.  The  honored  servant  of 
Christ,  upon  whose  lips  thousands  have  hung  with 
delight  and  profit,  is  passing  away,  and  the  sun  of 
his  bright  young  life,  before  it  has  reached  its 
meridian,  is  about  to  be  eclipsed  in  the  darkness 
of  the  grave. 

All  are  depressed  and  sorrowful  with  the  thought 
but  himself.  It  is  to  all  the  loving  friends  that 
hover  around  that  sick  bed  a  sad  and  mournful 
reflection  that  a  life  and  ministry  so  fraught  with 
blessing  and  usefulness  should  be  suddenly  cut 
short ;  but  to  himself  it  is  matter  of  fervent  joy. 
How  often  have  they  heard  him  heralding  his  ap- 
proach with  the  cheerful  strains, 

"  And  we'll  all  give  him  glory  when  we  arrive  at  home  !" 


4o8         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

But  now,  while  he  sings  the  joyous  words  with  all 
the  energy  his  wasted  powers  are  capable  of,  his 
countenance  becomes  radiant  with  the  hope  that 
this  glorious  home  is  close  at  hand,  and  he  is 
about  to  enter  in.  Not  even  the  thought  of  his 
young  wife  and  child  being  left  behind  has  any 
effect  in  making  him  cling  to  earth.  "  God  will 
take  care  of  them,"  he  says ;  and  in  a  somewhat 
different  sense  from  that  which  he  has  been  ac- 
customed to  use  it,  the  couplet  is  often  upon  his 
lips,  as  if  he  were  anxious  to  depart  and  be  with 
Christ — 

"  Come,  Lord,  the  drooping  sinner  cheer, 
Nor  let  thy  chariot  wheels  delay." 

Excruciating  pains  often  rack  the  debilitated 
frame,  and  as  he  draws  near  to  the  fatal  crisis 
powerful  convulsions  betoken  the  approach  of  the 
all-subduing  foe,  recalling  to  the  memory  of  one 
who  looks  upon  the  servant  of  God,  smitten  down 
in  his  young  manhood,  a  vivid,  painful  recollection 
of  that  other  one,  who  had  also  borne  the  mission- 
ary character,  whom  he  saw  trembling  and  con- 
vulsed in  the  grasp  of  the  king  of  terrors.  But  O 
how  different  the  one  case  from  the  other !  In 
this  there  is  nothing  to  fear  concerning  the  future. 
In  that  there  was  hardly  room  to  hope.  Here  is 
one  whom  the  Divine  Master  is  taking,  in  glorious 
triumph,  to  the  heavenly  Paradise  within  the  vail. 
There  was  one  who  was  departing — only  the  All- 
merciful  could  say  where,  for  even  charity  itself 
could  not  dare  to  say — it  could  only  faintly  hope 
— "  He  is  a  sinner  saved  by  grace,  passing  home 


Happy  Deaths.  409 

to  God."  This  is  one  who  has  run  the  course  of 
the  just,  shilling  more  and  more  brilliantly  like  the 
orb  of  day,  and  setting  in  glory  without  a  cloud. 
That  was  the  case  of  one  sinking  in  dark  clouds 
from  human  ken,  but  whether  to  rise  in  brightness 
in  a  more  glorious  world,  or  to  suffer  an  everlast- 
ing eclipse,  must  be  left  to  the  revelations  of  eter- 
nity. It  is  the  contrast  of  the  faithful  and  the 
fallen,  between  one  who  endured  with  unswerving 
fidelity  to  the  end,  and  one  who  turned  aside  and 
fell,  seduced  by  treacherous  vice  to  paths  of  dan- 
ger and  ruin. 

The  scene  so  painful,  yet  triumphant,  closes. 
The  last  convulsive  throe  shakes  the  weakened 
and  attenuated  frame,  and  shows  the  power  of  the 
terrible  disease  which  is  permitted  by  Him  who 
hath  the  keys  of  death  and  of  Hades  to  cut  short 
that  young  and  valued  life,  and  then  the  eye  rests 
upon  a  young  and  newly-made  widow,  weeping  in 
bitter  agony  over  the  inanimate  remains  which  the 
hallowed,  victorious  spirit  has  just  cast  off,  to  enter 
an  everlasting  rest.  Sad  is  the  overwhelming  con- 
viction that  now  comes  home  to  that  desolate 
heart,  that  the  being,  more  dear  to  her  than  all 
the  world  beside — the  one  she  has  loved  so  well — 
loved  as  only  woman  can  love — the  possessor  of 
all  earthly  excellences,  is  to  her  no  more  for  this 
life,  and  that  alone  in  the  solitude  of  early  widow- 
hood, bereft  of  the  tender  care  and  loving  sympa- 
thy which  promised  to  fill  her  path  through  life 
with  so  much  of  peace  and  joy,  she  must,  with  her 
fatherless  boy,  tread   that   path   alone.     Bitter  is 


410         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  thought  that,  unaided  by  the  counsels  she  has 
found  so  precious,  and  from  which  she  hoped  so 
much,  she  must  bear  alone  all  the  momentous  re- 
sponsibility of  training  that  young  heir  of  immor- 
tality to  follow  his  father  to  the  skies.  But  she 
knows  in  whom  she  has  believed,  and  her  trust  is 
that  God  will  not  withhold  his  aid  and  blessing  in 
this  noble  undertaking,  so  worthy  of  a  mother's 
yearning  love,  so  worthy  of  a'life's  devotion  ! 

It  is  a  touching  and  it  is  an  instructive  scene 
that  the  next  day's  sun  sheds  his  rays  upon  as  he 
descends  in  unclouded  tropical  glory  toward  the 
western  horizon,  for  all  that  is  earthly  of  the  young 
missionary,  so  early  taken  to  his  rest,  is  being 
borne  to  the  grave.  There  are  none  of  the  gor- 
geous trappings  of  woe.  A  plain  hearse  bears  the 
coffin,  and  a  few  weepers  of  crape  around  the  hats 
of  those  nearest  to  the  coffin  are  the  only  funeral 
adornments  considered  requisite  for  the  occasion. 
But  many  of  the  great  ones  of  earth  go  to  the 
proud  mausoleums  prepared  for  them  without 
such  honors  as  distinguished  the  closing  scene  in 
the  history  of  this  young  servant  of  Christ.  Thou- 
sands upon  thousands  have  assembled,  uninvited, 
to  make  part  of  that  funeral  procession  ;  men, 
women,  and  children  are  gathered,  as  if  some 
mighty  conqueror  whom  all  delighted  to  honor 
were  about  to  be  consigned  to  the  dust,  and  all 
who  can  command  a  black  coat  or  gown,  or  a 
mourning  handkerchief  or  ribbon,  have  brought 
them  forth  on  this  occasion.  In  thousands  of 
eyes  glisten  tears  of  grief,  or,  chasing  each  other 


Happy  Deaths.  4 1 1 

down  the  sable  cheek,  they  bear  eloquent  witness 
to  the  affection  with  which  the  departed  was  hon- 
ored as  the  funeral  cortege  moves  slowly  through 
the  streets.  It  is  no  easy  matter  to  convey  the 
body  into  the  chapel  because  of  the  dense  throng 
which  crowds  the  commodious  building.  Equally 
difficult  it  is  for  the  bearers  to  approach  -the  open 
grave  with  their  precious  burden.  At  length  they 
do  so ;  the  coffin  is  lowered  to  its  resting-place — 
earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust — in 
sure  and  certain  hope  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead,  and  the  solemn  service  closes  with  a  hymn, 
loud  sobs  making  themselves  audible  amid  the 
lofty  swell  of  a  multitude  of  voices  singing  in  me- 
lodious strains — 

"  Yes,  the  Christian's  course  is  run, 

Ended  is  the  glorious  strife  ; 
Fought  the  fight,  the  work  is  done, 

Death  is  swallow'd  up  of  life  ! 
Borne  by  angels  on  their  wings, 

Far  from  earth  the  spirit  flies, 
Finds  his  God,  and  sits,  and  sings, 

Triumphing  in  Paradise." 

A  few  days  have  elapsed,  and  a  dense  throng  of 
people  is  assembled  in  and  around  the  principal 
place  of  worship  in  the  city.  Nearly  all  are  in 
black,  or  else  have  black  adornings  to  the  clean 
white  dresses  they  wear  on  the  occasion,  for  it  is 
the  time  when  the  funeral  sermon  of  the  departed 
missionary  is  to  be  delivered.  Several  of  his 
brethren  and  colleagues  are  there,  who  loved  him 
well;  but  the  principal  part  of  the  service  has  been 


412        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

confided  to  one  who  was  the  boyish  companion  of 
the  ascended  one,  and  the  associate  of  his  youth  ; 
who  sought  with  him  the  blessings  and  joys  of  re- 
ligion, and  entered  with  him  upon  the  delightful 
work  of  laboring  for  precious  souls — the  chosen 
Christian  friend.  It  is  fitting  and  proper  that  the 
honor — whatever  of  that  there  may  be  in  it — of 
improving  the  early  death  of  the  loved  one  should 
belong  to  this  companion  of  his  early  days.  Right 
well  and  judiciously  does  he  improve  the  mourn- 
ful occasion.  No  fulsome  eulogy  is  indulged,  no 
flattering  compliments  are  uttered,  but  to  the 
Giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift  all  the  honor 
and  praise  is  ascribed,  while  he  shows,  in  a  dis- 
course eloquent  in  its  simplicity  and  appropriate- 
ness, that  the  friend  and  brother  just  passed  out  of 
sight  and  gone  home  to  God  was  "a  good  man, 
and  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  faith,  and  much 
people  was  added  to  the  Lord." 

Living,  weeping  witnesses  all  around,  who  have 
been  awakened  and  brought  to  God  through  his 
instrumentality,  can  set  to  their  seal  that  of  him 
these  words  are  true.  The  sermon  ended,  the  ' 
minister,  whose  co-pastor  the  departed  missionary 
has  been,  and  whom  he  has  loved  and  lamented 
with  all  the  warm  affection  of  a  brother,  rises  to 
say  a  few  words  to  the  congregation.  He  speaks 
of  the  young  widow  and  the  fatherless  boy,  who 
has  only  seen  a  few  months  of  life,  and  the  sad 
bereavement  they  have  sustained,  which  is  aggra- 
vated by  the  painful  fact  that  they  are  left  with 
very,    very    slender    claims    upon    any    means    of 


Happy  Deaths.  413 

earthly  support.  He  will  not  dishonor  the  mem- 
ory of  his  departed  friend  by  presenting  his  widow 
and  little  one  to  their  notice  as  begging  for  help 
at  their  hands.  They  know  nothing  of  his  inten- 
tion to  make  any  reference  to  them  on  this  occa- 
sion. They  could  not  know  it,  and  none  could 
know  it,  for  it  is  only  now,  while  listening  to  the 
soul-moving  remarks  of  the  preacher  who  has  just 
sat  down,  that  the  propriety  of  mentioning  the 
subject  there  and  then  has  suggested  itself  to  his 
mind.  He  will  only  state  the  fact  that  the  widow 
and  her  child  are  left  more  than  ordinarily  desti- 
tute, without  friends  and  -without  a  home.  He 
will  ask  them  for  nothing,  but  knowing  how  well 
they  loved  the  husband  and  the  father,  he  will 
furnish  the  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  their 
own  generous  impulses  by  attending  himself  at 
one,  and  his  two  colleagues  at  the  other  two  chap- 
els in  the  city,  for  an  hour  or  two  about  midday  on 
the  morrow. 

At  the  appointed  hour  in  the  morning  hundreds 
are  there  with  tear-stained  cheeks,  bringing  each 
an  offering,  small  in  itself  in  many  instances,  but, 
when  regarded  in  the  same  light  as  the  widow's 
two  mites,  liberal  indeed.  Hundreds  of  children 
are  there  too,  for  the  young  minister  was  specially 
beloved  of  children,  all  with  offerings  of  greater  or 
less  value  ;  every  one  of  them  precious,  however, 
as  the  spontaneous  tribute  of  true  affection,  and  no 
doubt  graciously  appreciated  by  Him  who  looks 
at  the  hearts  of  givers.  Nor  do  his  missionary 
brethren  hang  back  from  testifying  their  love  to 


414         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

their  valued  brother  by  showing  kindness  to  those 
he  has  left  behind.  It  is  a  source  of  intense  satis- 
faction to  him,  who  suggested  to  the  kindly  con- 
sideration of  Christian  friends  that  the  widow  and 
her  fatherless  son  had  claims  upon  their  sympathy, 
while  it  is  honorable  to  the  liberality  of  the  donors, 
that  in  a  short  time  he  is  able  to  make  a  favorable 
investment  of  several  hundred  pounds,  all  of  it 
the  cheerful,  spontaneous  gift  of  love.  This  is 
done  in  such  a  way  as  to  afford  efficient  aid  to  the 
bereaved  mother  in  bringing  up  her  boy  in  the 
land  of  his  father  in  a  manner  befitting  the 
memory  of  his  sainted  sire,  and  prepare  him  to 
play  a  worthy  part  upon  the  stage  of  life  ;  the 
mother  blessed  in  her  son,  the  son  equally  blessed 
in  his  mother. 

It  is  a  further  cause  of  satisfaction  and  joy,  when 
after  the  lapse  of  twenty  years  he  meets  that  moth- 
er and  son  again  in  the  west  of  England,  to  find  that 
God's  hand  has  been  upon  them  both  ;  the  prayers 
of  the  long  ascended  father  and  the  living  mother 
for  their  boy  have  been  answered  in  his  early  con- 
version, and  in  the  devotion  of  his  heart  and  life 
to  God  ;  and  that,  blooming  into  manhood,  he  is 
about  to  offer  his  gifts  and  energies  to  be  employed 
in  that  ministry  in  which  it  was  his  father's  delight 
and  honor  to  live  and  die.  May  the  blessing  of 
his  father's  God  make  the  course  of  the  young 
minister  to  be  one  eminently  enriched  with  all 
the  fragrant  graces  and  beauties  of  Christian  holi- 
ness, and  abounding  with  the  fruits  of  the  higher 
wisdom  that  winneth  souls  for  God  ! 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  415 


XXI. 

Crossing  the  Atlantic. 

The  sea  is  mighty,  but  a  mightier  sways 

His  restless  billows.    Thou,  whose  hands  have  scoop'd 

His  boundless  gulfs  and  built  his  shore.  Thy  breath, 

That  moved  in  the  beginning  o'er  his  face. 

Moves  o'er  it  evermore.    The  obedient  waves 

To  its  strong  motion  roll,  and  rise  and  fall. — Betaxt. 

TTlT  is  a  lively,  restless  scene,  calculated  to  per- 
3ir  plex  the  quiet  mind,  that  presents  itself  to  a 
party  of  travelers  as  they  step  from  their 
hackney  carriages  in  the  dock-yard  at  Southampton. 
A  small  steamer,  which  is  employed  as  a  "  tender," 
to  convey  passengers  and  the  mails  to  the  larger 
vessels,  is  alongside  the  quay,  and  appears  already 
crowded  with  persons  who  are  going  off  to  the 
*'  La  Plata,"  now  lying,  ready  for  her  departure,  in 
what  are  called  the  Southampton  waters.  Trunks, 
carpet-bags,  etc.,  intermingled  with  package-cases 
of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  are  piled  in  heaps  upon  the 
narrow  deck  of  the  little  vessel ;  while,  from  stem 
to  stern,  almost  every  available  portion  of  space 
appears  occupied  by  the  owners  of  these  miscel- 
laneous articles,  all  carefully  defended  by  cloaks, 
shawls,  muffs,  and  furs,  against  the  bitter  cold  of  a 
January  morning,  which  is  to  witness  their  depart- 
ure  for  a  brighter  and  a  warmer  clime.       Still, 


4i6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

however,  porters  are  rapidly  traversing  the  narrow 
plank  which  affords  access  to  the  tender,  and  a 
continuous  stream  of  passengers  pours  in,  until  it 
becomes  quite  impossible  for  any  of  the  earlier 
arrivals  to  move  from  the  place  where  they  have 
taken  their  stand,  or  have  been  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  a  seat.  And  how  motley  is  the  crowd 
squeezed  together  within  those  narrow  limits ! 
French  and  Spanish,  English  and  German,  Portu- 
guese and  Mexican,  the  mulatto  and  the  negro, 
exhibit  here  their  distinguishing  peculiarities  as, 
like  a  flock  of  migratory  birds  at  the  close  of  sum- 
mer, they  are  all  on  the  wing  for  the  far  west.  The 
bell  rings  ;  the  plank  connecting  the  tender  with 
the  shore  is  withdrawn  ;  the  sharp  shrill  voice  of 
the  call-boy  conveys  to  the  invisible  engineer  the 
command  to  "turn  ahead;"  and  the  noble 
steamers  that  grace  the  dock,  destined  for  distant 
voyages  both  to  east  and  west,  are  speedily  left 
behind. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  docks  are  cleared,  and  the 
voyagers,  with  their  friends,  are  moving  swiftly 
down  the  placid  Southampton  waters  toward  the 
point  at  which  "  La  Plata,"  with  the  well  known 
sailing  signal  flying  at  her  mast-head,  is  proudly 
seated  on  the  bosom  of  the  deep,  waiting  to  re- 
ceive her  freight.  Even  at  the  distance  of  two 
miles  she  appears  large  and  majestic  ;  but  when  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  has  brought  the  tender  near, 
her  graceful  and  magnificent  proportions  become 
more  distinctly  visible.  Various  emotions  swell 
the  bosoms  of  those  who  gaze  upon  her;  for  while 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  417 

some  are  thoughtless,  others  are  not  unmindful  of 
the  perils  of  the  great  deep.  In  the  midst  of  their 
admiration,  the  thought  suggests  itself  to  some 
minds,  "  Possibly  that  noble  vessel  is  destined  to 
become  my  coffin,  and  to  bear  down  to  the  un- 
searchable caverns  of  the  ocean  a  multitude  of  im- 
mortal beings  who  with  unsuspecting  confidence 
are  about  to  intrust  themselves  to  the  treacherous 
flood."  They  do  not  forget  the  tragical  fate  of  the 
"  President,"  which  perished,  how,  or  when,  or 
where,  no  man  living  can  explain ;  or  the  still 
more  recent  catastrophe  of  the  "Amazon."  No 
one  ventures  to  express  the  thoughts  that  are 
busy  within  him  ;  yet  the  inquiry  arises,  "  Will  she 
safely  traverse  the  broad  Atlantic  with  the  souls 
aboard  her  .-*  or,  like  her  hapless  predecessor,  will 
she  be  lighted  up,  a  blazing  beacon,  to  startle  and 
appal  the  nation  with  the  details  of  frightful  suf- 
fering, hair-breadth  escapes,  and  self-sacrificing 
heroism  1  " 

The  tender  is  now  alongside,  appearing  but  a 
cockle-shell  in  comparison  with  her  lofty  princi- 
pal. A  scramble  to  get  on  board  ensues,  the 
stronger  elbowing  and  thrusting  aside  the  weaker, 
as  if  life  itself  depended  upon  being  among  the 
first  to  tread  "  La  Plata's  "  decks.  But  the  more 
timid,  who  have  patiently  waited  their  turn,  with 
the  nurses  and  children,  are  all  in  due  time 
handed  over  the  tender's  paddle-box  by  polite 
and  attentive  officers.  The  piles  of  baggage  are 
also  carefully  transferred  to  the  larger  vessel,  the 
whole  speedily  disappearing  as  porters  from  the 


41 8         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

shore  bear  it  away  and  deposit  it  in  the  cabins 
respectively  apportioned  to  the  several  owners. 
Some  mistakes  have  occurred  in  the  hurry  of  em- 
barkation. Cabin  No.  9,  which,  along  with  three 
others,  Nos.  7,  11,  and  13,  has  been  engaged  by  a 
family  party  of  seven  persons,  is  found  occupied 
by  strange  boxes  and  carpet-bags,  the  owner  of 
which  is  beginning  to  uncord  them,  with  a  view  of 
putting  things  in  order,  and  making  all  as  snug 
and  comfortable  as  possible  while  the  vessel  lies 
quietly  at  anchor.  Explanation  follows,  when  it 
is  found  that  the  stranger  has  got  into  "  the  wrong 
box,"  by  mistaking  No.  9  aft  for  No.  9  forward, 
where  the  berth  to  which  he  has  a  legitimate  claim 
awaits  his  occupation.  A  word  or  two  of  good- 
humored  apology  sets  the  matter  right,  and  on  the 
shoulders  of  a  sturdy  porter  the  intruding  baggage 
is  borne  away  to  the  less  sumptuous  yet  comfort- 
able range  of  cabins  before  the  funnels. 

The  large  and  handsome  saloon,  extending  in 
length  nearly  seventy  feet,  and  beautifully  fitted 
with  panels  and  twisted  columns  of  bird's-eye 
maple  and  cushions  of  crimson  velvet,  presents  a 
lively  scene.  Family  parties,  exchanging  a  few 
last  words,  are  grouped  in  different  directions ; 
while  the  purser  and  the  company's  clerks,  at 
separate  tables,  are  busily  engaged  in  rectifying 
mistakes,  adjusting  conflicting  claims,  or  startling 
some  of  the  passengers  by  accounts  for  "  extra 
baggage."  Many  on  board  are,  manifestly,  for- 
eigners. At  one  end  of  the  spacious  apartment  a 
loquacious  little  Frenchman,  whose  fierce,  squir- 


*  Crossing  the  Atlantic.  419 

rel-like  eyes  are  almost  the  only  part  of  his  feat- 
ures not  concealed  by  a  mass  of  carefully  culti- 
vated hair,  is  carrying  on  an  angry  dispute  with 
one  of  the  company's  clerks  and  two  or  three  of 
the  passengers,  who  appear  to  be  interested  on  the 
other  side  of  the  question.  It  is  impossible  for 
those  who  are  in  the  vicinity  not  to  overhear  the 
conversation,  in  which  several  other  parties  on 
both  sides,  as  well  as  the  principal  disputants, 
take  a  vociferous  part,  and  it  soon  becomes  ap- 
parent that  the  diminutive  Frenchman,  through 
some  mistake  of  the  company's  Parisian  agent, 
has  obtained  the  occupancy  of  a  cabin  previously 
engaged  by  an  English  resident  at  Bogota,  who 
quietly  insists  on  having  the  accommodation  for 
which  he  has  stipulated  and  paid.  The  French- 
man has,  however,  the  advantage  of  possession. 
With  the  key  of  the  apartment  in  his  pocket,  he 
sets  argument,  entreaty,  and  authority  alike  at  de- 
fiance, and,  with  a  volubility  perfectly  overwhelm- 
ing, persists  in  asserting  his  right. 

The  dispute  remains  unsettled,  when  it  is  an- 
nounced that  the  tender,  which  had  returned  to 
Southampton,  has  again  put  off  from  the  shore 
with  the  mails — the  well-known  sign  that  the  ship 
will  speedily  put  to  sea.  A  few  minutes  suffice  to 
bring  the  little  steamer  alongside,  when,  under  the 
superintendence  of  the  agent — an  old,  battered, 
and  nearly  worn-out  lieutenant  of  the  navy — the 
mails  are  brought  on  board.  Nearly  seventy  stout 
canvas  bags,  and  other  packages,  each  requiring 
two  or  three  men  to  lift  it,  contain  the  mass  of 
27 


420        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

correspondence  and  news  for  transportation  to 
the  west.  What  a  world  of  emotion  is  bound  up 
in  the  contents  of  those  packages  !  How  much  of 
hope  and  despondency,  of  joy  and  sorrow,  may  be 
latent  there  !  When  those  mail-bags  shall  have 
yielded  their  sealed  treasures  what  impulses  will 
be  given  to  the  yearnings  of  a  heartless  cupidity 
on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the  noble  sentiments  and 
aspirations  of  a  self-denying  benevolence  on  the 
other  !  As  the  bags  are  successively  handed  over 
the  ship's  side  by  "  La  Plata's  "  brawny  tars  their 
destination  may  be  read,  printed  on  the  canvas  in 
large  characters.  The  word  "  Havana  "  shows 
some  to  be  designed  for  Cuba,  where  the  worst 
horrors  of  slavery  are  still  rampant,  and  several 
hundred  thousands  of  human  beings  crouch  and 
writhe  under  the  lash.  On  others,  "  Vera  Cruz  " 
reveals  the  fact  that  the  miners  of  Mexico  have 
their  share  in  the  contents  of  the  mail ;  while,  as 
"Jamaica,"  "St.  Kitt's,"  "Antigua,"  "Barbadoes," 
etc.,  meet  the  eye,  the  beholder  is  reminded  that 
there  is  in  that  vast  heap  of  letters  and  papers 
something  to  cheer  the  hearts  of  Christian  mis- 
sionaries who,  in  those  lovely  and  fertile  isles  of 
the  Caribbean,  pursue  with  diligence  their  work  of 
faith  and  labor  of  love  among  the  emancipated 
children  of  Africa. 

Among  others  who  have  come  off  with  the  mails 
is  Captain  Vincent,  the  superintendent  of  the  com- 
pany's affairs  at  Southampton,  and  formerly  in 
command  of  one  of  their  ships,  whose  stentorian 
voice  is  now  heard  from  the  gangway  speaking  in 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  421 

accents  of  authority.  It  transpires  that  the  mat- 
ter of  the  disputed  cabin  has  been  referred  to  the 
superintendent  by  the  English  claimant,  who  avows 
his  determination  to  take  his  family  ashore  in  the 
tender,  and  throw  up  his  passage  altogether  if  the 
company's  engagement  with  him  be  not  carried 
into  effect.  The  disputatious  Frenchman  is  by  no 
means  inclined  to  yield  to  the  more  equitable  de- 
mand, even  when  that  demand  is  sustained  by  the 
decision  of  Captain  Vincent.  With  gleaming  eye 
and  untiring  vociferation,  he  still  protests  that  he 
will  keep  possession.  "  Where  is  the  carpenter  }  " 
inquires  Captain  Vincent,  and  that  functionary 
soon  makes  his  appearance.  "  Go  and  break  open 
the  cabin-door,  and  let  this  gentleman  in,"  is  the 
laconic  order.  "Ay,  ay,  sir."  Hardly  sooner  said 
than  done,  and  the  carpenter  is  back  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. "  The  cabin  is  open,  sir."  The  discom- 
fited Galilean  retires,  chagrined,  from  the  now 
hopeless  contest,  and  the  successful  competitor 
goes,  well  pleased,  to  take  possession.  Again  the 
voice  of  the  superintendent  is  heard.  "  Captain 
Weller,   I  have   ordered   the  cabin   No.  —  to  be 

broken  open  and  given  to  Mr.  .      You  will, 

no  doubt,  make  the  gentleman  who  had  it  as  com- 
fortable as  possible  somewhere  else."  "Ay,  ay, 
sir,"  responds  the  captain,  with  manly  voice,  from 
the  top  of  the  paddle-box.  "  The  gentleman  shall 
be  made  comfortable.  I  will  give  him  my  own 
cabin  if  he  likes  to  take  it." 

What  a  magic  influence  is  there  in  kindness  ! 
The  tone  and  manner  in  which  these  words  are 


422         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

spoken,  together  with  the  generous  spirit  they 
breathe,  have  in  a  moment  awakened  in  many 
breasts  a  feeling  of  respectful  regard  for  the  speak- 
er, which  is  by  no  means  lessened  when,  drawn  to 
the  quarter  whence  the  voice  proceeds,  the  eyes 
of  most  of  the  passengers  rest  for  the  first  time 
upon  the  man  under  whose  guidance  and  com- 
mand they  are  about  to  proceed  across  the  watery 
waste,  and  upon  whose  vigilance,  skill,  and  energy, 
under  God,  not  only  their  comfort,  but  the  safety 
of  their  lives,  will  depend.  With  anxious  glance 
his  form  and  countenance  are  closely  scanned, 
and  he  bears  the  scrutiny  well.  He  looks  every 
inch  a  sailor.  The  modest  uniform  of  the  compa- 
ny enwraps  a  stout,  muscular,  symmetrical,  and 
well-knit  frame,  capable  of  enduring  a  large 
amount  of  fatigue,  and  not  likely  soon  to  break 
down.  Not  the  slightest  trace  of  effeminacy  is 
there.  The  gold-laced  cap  is  seen  to  surmount  a 
countenance  which  inspires  at  once  confidence 
and  respect.  There  is  a  good-humored  frankness 
beaming  from  the  eye,  which  invites  the  beholder 
to  look  again,  and  leaves  on  his  mind  a  pleasing 
image.  But  there  is  also  an  expression  of  deter- 
mination, and  even  of  daring,  which  imparts  the 
comfortable  assurance  that  in  any  emergency  where 
manly  courage  and  cool  self-possession  are  re- 
quired reliance  may  be  placed  on  our  captain. 

All  preparations  are  now  completed.  The  pas- 
sengers have  finally  shaken  hands  with  shore-going 
friends  and  seen  them  pass  through  the  gangway 
into  the  tender,  while  both  dropped   the  parting 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  423 

tear.  The  two  vessels  have  separated,  and  the 
foam  from  the  massive  paddle-wheels  shows  that 
the  voyage  has  commenced  in  earnest.  The  little 
tender,  running  parallel  for  a  few  mor.ients  with 
the  departing  ship,  sends  forth  three  hearty  fare- 
well cheers,  which  are  as  heartily  returned  by  the 
"  La  Plata's "  men,  clustering  like  bees  in  the 
shrouds.  Each  pursues  its  course,  the  tender  re- 
turning to  the  docks  at  Southampton,  while  the 
massive  mail-boat,  directing  her  stem  toward  the 
British  Channel,  plows  her  way  through  the  deep, 
leaving  in  her  wake  a  broad  line  of  foam  to  mark 
the  increasing  rapidity  with  which  she  glides  away 
from  the  shores  of  Old  England. 

Dinner  is  quickly  served  after  the  vessel  is 
fairly  under  way,  and  both  ranges  of  tables,  which 
run  the  entire  length  of  the  spacious  saloon,  are 
seen  completely  filled  with  the  passengers— for 
the  most  part  strangers  to  each  other.  To  those 
who  know  something  of  the  casualties  of  a  sea- 
voyage  it  appears  not  very  probable  that  they  will 
all  assemble  on  the  morrow  in  the  same  place 
again.  And  so  it  proves.  The  evening  is  com- 
paratively serene  ;  the  Needles  and  the  Portland 
lights  are  successively  passed,  together  with  a 
large  steamer  homeward  bound,  supposed  to  be 
the  "  Magdalena,"  and  our  noble  ship  makes  rapid 
progress  down  the  Channel  until  at  length  the 
decks  are  cleared,  and  all  have  retired  to  their 
berths,  indulging  the  hope  that  an  easy  and  pleas- 
ant run  lies  before  them.  But  during  the  night 
the  wind  increases,  and  the  sea  becomes  agitated, 


424         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

imparting  considerable  motion  to  the  vast  fabric 
that  is  cutting  her  way  through  the  rolling  waves. 
The  usual  consequences  of  such  a  state  of  things 
ensue.  Long  before  daylight  voices  are  heard 
from  all  parts  of  the  ship  allotted  to  passengers 
earnestly  calling  for  the  services  of  the  steward 
and  stewardess,  and  many  a  note  of  distress  and 
suffering  issues  from  the  unknown  depths  of  the 
vessel. 

Morning  dawns,  and  the  sea  no  longer  presents 
the  placid  and  grateful  aspect  of  the  evening  be- 
fore. It  wears  an  angry  appearance.  The  ship 
rolls  and  pitches  considerably,  rendering  it  diffi- 
cult for  even  the  practiced  stewards  and  waiters 
to  keep  their  feet.  When  breakfast  is  spread,  the 
sceine  is  very  different  from  that  of  the  dinner 
hour  on  the  previous  day.  Of  the  numerous  pas- 
sengers, scarcely  one  in  ten  appears  in  answer  to 
the  summons,  and  some  of  those  who  do  emerge 
from  their  cabins  look  exceedingly  woebegone. 
So  that  now  the  saloon,  in  its  comparative  stillness 
and  desertion,  wears  an  air  of  gloom  and  desola- 
tion, increasing  the  depression  already  prevalent. 
It  is  the  same  at  dinner.  A  plentiful  repast  is 
spread,  but  the  loud  ringing  of  the  steward's  bell 
calls  forth,  in  addition  to  the  captain  and  officers 
who  usually  preside  at  the  tables,  only  some  ten 
or  a  dozen  ghostly-looking  persons,  who,  in  sheer 
desperation,  resolve  at  least  to  make  an  attempt 
to  shake  off  the  fiend  of  seasickness.  Alas !  the 
effort  is  vain.  One  or  two  old  sea-goers,  despite 
the  rocking  and  plunging  of  the  ship,  keep  their 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  425 

places,  and  do  justice  to  the  viands  spread  before 
them  ;  but  in  other  instances  the  very  sight  and 
odor  of  the  food  prove  utterly  unendurable,  and 
the  issue  is  a  hasty  and  inglorious  retreat. 

Another  day  dawns,  but  brings  no  improvement 
in  the  weather.  The  wind  has  veered  round  to 
the  west  and  blows  very  strong.  Yet  the  passen- 
gers begin  to  leave  their  berths.  A  few  pale  and 
disheveled  ladies  may  be  seen  reclining  upon  the 
cushions  and  settees  of  the  saloon,  and  toward 
evening  some  of  the  other  sex  find  courage  to  as- 
cend the  poop,  and  gaze  upon  that  wild  and  angry 
abyss  of  waters,  raging  as  if  they  would  swallow 
up  the  ship  and  all  that  it  contains.  To  some 
minds  it  occurs  (and  it  is  far  from  a  gratifying  re- 
flection) that  this  is  the  anniversary  of  the  fear- 
ful loss  of  the  "Amazon."  It  was  two  years  ago 
this  evening,  near  the  spot  where  the  "  La  Plata  " 
is  now  laboring  on,  and  during  the  prevalence  of 
a  similar  gale,  that  the  numerous  denizens  of  that 
ill-fated  ship  were  startled  from  their  sleep  in  the 
dead  of  night  to  find  themselves  shut  up  in  a  blaz- 
ing vessel  and  compelled  to  choose — as  many  as 
were  not  already  suffocated  in  their  berths — be- 
tween the  burning  fiery  furnace  beneath  their  feet 
and  the  poor  chance  of  safety  they  had  in  com- 
mitting themselves  to  the  mercy  of  the  billows. 
Should  a  similar  calamity  be  permitted  to  occur, 
how  few  of  those  on  board  could  be  preserved  ! 
How  small  the  probability  that  even  one  boat 
could  live  through  a  voyage  of  hundreds  of  miles 
in  that  boiling  and  roaring  sea  !     The  lapse  of  hour 


426         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

after  hour  brings  no  mitigation  of  the  gale.  On 
the  contrary,  its  fury  increases  from  day  to  day,  un- 
til at  length  it  blows  a  perfect  hurricane,  and  the 
most  experienced  seaman  on  board  acknowledges 
that  he  has  never  in  these  latitudes  known  a  gale 
to  surpass  it  in  strength  and  duration.  Viewed 
from  the  quarter-deck  the  scene  is  one  of  terrible 
sublimity,  bringing  forcibly  to  mind  the  words  of 
the  psalmist,  "  They  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in 
ships  .  .  .  see  His  wonders  in  the  deep."  The 
huge  billows  lift  up  their  hoary  heads  on  high, 
while  the  force  of  the  wind  is  so  great  as  to  cut  off 
their  curling  summits,  driving  and  scattering  them 
abroad  in  clouds  of  spray.  Far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  the  ocean  is  white  with  foam.  Yet,  associ- 
ated though  it  is  with  the  idea  of  peril  to  the  ship 
and  the  two  hundred  and  seventy  souls  with  which 
she  is  freighted,  the  scene  is  one  of  impressive 
grandeur  and  beauty,  suggestive  of  lofty  and  sal- 
utary thoughts  concerning  the  perfections  and 
glories  of  the  almighty  One,  who  holds  these  vast 
and  storming  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 
Here  it  is  that  man  feels  how  little  and  how  helpless 
he  is.  Now  lifted  up  to  the  heavens,  then  plunging 
into  the  deep  trough  of  the  sea,  how  can  he  curb 
or  control  the  fury  of  the  boisterous  elements .'' 
Nothing  but  a  single  plank  or  iron  plate  which  the 
next  shock  of  the  waves  may  hopelessly  displace, 
prevents  his  sinking  into  the  unfathomable  gulf 
that  yawns  beneath.  And  here  it  is  tl  at  he  feels 
how  vast  and  illimitable  must  be  the  power  of  that 
Divine  Being  who  made  and  who  controls  at  his 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  427 

pleasure  those  turbulent  and  roaring  billows  ;  who 
sits  in  calmest  majesty  above  the  water  floods,  and 
reigns  a  king  forever. 

Onward  through  the  gale  "  La  Plata  "  pursues 
her  course.  Her  commander  amply  justifies  the 
confidence  which  his  frank  and  manly  bearing  at 
first  inspired.  He  has  never  before  seen  the  ship  he 
now  commands  so  thoroughly  tested,  but  her  admi- 
rable qualities  become  fully  developed  by  the  trial 
she  is  passing  through.  He  urges  her  onward,  in 
•  the  teeth  of  the  tempest,  at  the  rate  of  nearly  seven 
knots  an  hour.  He  knows  that  the  gale  may,  in 
these  latitudes,  continue  for  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  wisely  concludes  that  the  best  and  shortest 
method  will  be  to  drive  the  vessel  through  it,  with 
all  the  speed  of  which  she  is  capable.  And  right 
nobly  does  she  second  her  captain's  wishes.  Often 
she  is  stunned  for  a  moment  or  two  by  the  thun- 
dering blow  of  some  massive  wave  upon  her  star- 
board quarter,  and  every  timber  creaks  as  if  she 
would  go  to  pieces.  Still  she  rises  gallantly,  keep- 
ing her  bowsprit  directed  to  the  sailing  point. 
Under  the  impulse  of  her  powerful  engines,  she 
throws  aside  the  threatening  waters  and  dashes 
on  her  way.  Now  she  pitches  forward  as  the 
monster  billow  sinks  under  her  bows,  as  if  she 
would  plunge  head  foremost  into  the  flood  and 
disappear  altogether,  while  a  torrent  of  foam  and 
spray  is  sent  to  the  very  extremity  of  her  far- 
stretching  decks.  Then  again  she  rolls  into  the 
trough,  until  some  of  the  terrified  passengers 
shriek  in  deep  alarm  lest  she  should  never  recover 


428         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

her  equilibrium,  but,  turning  over,  settle  down  for 
ever  into  the  fathomless  deep.  But  onward  still 
she  moves,  and  during  all  this  contention  with 
tempestuous  winds  and  raging  seas,  extending 
over  a  period  of  five  days  and  nights,  not  a  timber 
in  the  well-compacted  and  beautiful  vessel  is 
started ;  no  increase  of  bilge-water  indicates  that 
her  seams  have  been  strained.  Easily  and  grace- 
fully rising  and  falling  with  the  waves,  she  prompt- 
ly answers  to  every  motion  of  the  helm,  and  rushes 
on  her  course  as  if  instinct  with  life.  How  fit  an 
emblem  of  the  man  of  God  !  How  like  the  great 
apostle  of  the  Gentiles !  No  matter  what  hostile 
wind  may  blow,  or  what  opposition  may  for  a  sea- 
son impede  his  course.  The  tempest  may  rage, 
the  billows  may  roll,  and  he  may  be  tossed  about, 
apparently  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of  the  ele- 
ments. As  the  noble  vessel  is  urged  onward  by 
the  untiring  play  of  the  vast  power  within  her 
own  bosom,  so  the  apostle,  under  one  guiding  im- 
pulse— the  constraining  love  of  Christ — presses  for- 
ward in  the  course  of  duty  and  suffering,  unwea- 
ried and  undismayed,  always  making  for  the  same 
point,  and  saying,  "  This  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting 
those  things  which  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth 
unto  those  things  which  are  before,  I  press  towa.rd 
the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God 
in  Christ  Jesus." 

It  is  during  the  oft-recurring  meal-time  that 
the  most  amusing  incidents  occur.  The  destruc- 
tion of  glass  and  earthenware  is  very  extensive, 
and  on  her  return  to  Southampton  the  "  La  Plata  " 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  429 

will  be  found  to  have  "  expended  "  largely  in  these 
departments  during  her  voyage.  The  table  in  the 
ladies'  saloon  has  just  been  supplied  with  basins 
of  soup,  plates  of  biscuit,  water-decanters,  and 
glasses  for  the  refreshment  of  some  who  are  still 
too  unsettled  to  appear  above  stairs,  when  a  sud- 
den lurch  of  the  ship  sweeps  the  table  clear,  and 
the  carpet  is  covered  with  the  Avreck.  A  loud 
crash  in  the  steward's  pantry  proclaims  the  down- 
fall of  one  of  the  waiters  in  the  midst  of  a  mass 
of  crockery,  ready  to  be  deposited  on  the  table  ; 
and  a  similar  noise  in  the  lobby  proceeds  from 
another  who  has  been  overturned  while  both  arms 
were  laden  with  plates  and  glasses.  All  parts  of 
the  ship  in  turn  send  forth  sounds  of  breakage  and 
ruin.  In  the  large  saloon  sad  confusion  prevails. 
Now  a  lamp-glass  not  securely  fastened  darts 
from  its  position,  and  is  dashed  to  shivers  against 
the  wall,  within  an  inch  of  a  passenger's  head. 
The  soup  tureen  takes  a  sudden  fling,  and  three 
fourths  of  its  contents  are  poured  in  the  bosom  of 
some  unlucky  one  who  happens  to  be  sitting  in 
the  way  of  its  progress.  Ducks  swim  off  nearly 
the  whole  length  of  the  table,  after  a  fashion  alto- 
gether new,  and  far  less  graceful  than  that  in 
which  they  were  once  accustomed  to  glide  along 
their  favorite  element.  And  so  with  other  viands. 
It  is  a  lively  but  not  a  pleasant  scene  ;  for  few  are 
without  apprehension  that  there  is  great  peril  to 
the  ship  in  these  warring  winds  and  fiercely-raging 
seas.  The  gale  has  continued  four  days  and 
nights,  and  there  is  no  sign  of  abatement;  on  the 


430         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

contrary,  the  tremendous  blows  under  which  the 
vessel  reels,  and  the  increasing  violence  with 
which  she  rolls  and  pitches  upon  the  swiftly-heav- 
ing billows,  would  indicate  that  both  wind  and  sea 
rise  higher  and  wax  stronger  still.  Fear  amount- 
ing almost  to  agony  is  torturing  some  breasts. 
With  others  arise  touching  reminiscences  of  the 
families  they  have  recently  left  behind,  or  have  been 
hoping  soon  to  meet  again.  Misgivings  concern- 
ing the  past,  and  painful  apprehensions  of  the  fu- 
ture, hold  alternate  sway  ;  and  from  the  crowded 
depths  of  the  ship,  especially  during  the  dark 
watches  of  the  night,  many  earnest  prayers  go 
up,  in  some  instances  from  hearts  little  accus- 
tomed to  such  an  exercise,  appealing  to  the  mercy 
and  power  of  Him  who  measures  the  waters  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand. 

At  daylight  on  the  fifth  day  the  tempest  has 
reached  its  height,  and  it  is  fearful.  Several 
heavy  seas  have  broken  over  the  bows,  carrying 
away  a  portion  of  the  framework  beneath  the  bow- 
sprit ;  when  one  huge  wave,  with  a  noise  like 
thunder,  striking  the  vessel  with  a  violence  which 
for  the  moment  stops  her  course  and  causes  every 
plank  and  bulk-head  to  creak  and  quiver,  is  found 
to  have  torn  away  one  of  the  life-boats,  which  is 
seen,  bottom  upward,  driving  rapidly  to  leeward, 
as  the  ship,  arousing  herself,  as  it  were,  from  the 
shock,  urges  on  her  course.  This  is  a  loss  to  be 
lamented,  not  only  as  the  boat  would  be  invaluable 
in  case  of  such  an  emergency  as  may  possibly  arise, 
with  a  ship  having  two  hundred  and  seventy  souls 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  431 

on  board,  but  because  it  was  one  of  the  boats 
saved  from  the  unfortunate  "  Amazon,"  one 
which  did  its  part  in  bearing  to  land  the  few 
that  escaped  the  catastrophe  of  January  4,  1852. 

The  mercury  rises  in  the  barometer  throughout 
the  day,  and  toward  evening  and  throughout  the 
night  there  is  a  perceptible  improvement,  wel- 
come beyond  expression  to  the  tempest-tossed  and 
wearied  inmates  of  the  ship.  The  holy  Sabbath 
dawns  upon  the  ocean  still  rolling  with  majestic 
power,  but  exhibiting  a  milder  and  more  pacific 
aspect.  The  captain  thinks  the  sea  too  rough,  and 
the  motion  of  the  vessel  too  great,  to  permit  the 
holding  of  Divine  service  ;  especially  as  the  clothes 
of  the  men  forward,  and  the  boxes  of  some  of  the 
passengers,  have  been  thoroughly  saturated  during 
the  gale.  Yet,  surely,  after  so  impressive  a  mani- 
festation of  Divine  power,  it  would  be  a  grateful 
and  becoming  thing  to  render  public  thanks  and 
worship  to  Him  who  has  heard  prayer,  and  saved 
the  ship,  with  her  crew  and  passengers,  from  the 
perils  of  the  deep.  In  the  afternoon  the  moderated 
state  of  the  weather  renders  it  safe  even  for  the 
female  portion  of  the  voyagers  to  appear  .on  the 
upper  deck,  and  thither  most  of  them  repair, 
some  to  read,  and  others  to  lounge  away  the  time, 
(which  the  regulations  of  the  vessel  will  not  per- 
mit to  be  spent  in  games  of  chance,)  under  a 
cloudless  sky,  inhaling  the  balmy  breeze ;  while 
others  prefer  to  read  the  holy  Word,  and  meditate 
or  converse  upon  the  things  of  God,  in  the  quiet 
of  the  almost  deserted  saloon. 


432         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Within  a  week  how  great  a  change  has  been 
experienced !  Last  Sabbath,  overcoats,  cloaks, 
and  furs  were  in  general  requisition ;  and  even 
these  were  scarcely  sufficient  to  protect  the 
wearers  against  the  chilling  sharpness  of  the  keen 
northerly  breeze.  Now  all  these  wrappings  are 
cast  aside  ;  the  genial  breath  of  spring  fans  the 
cheek;  and  it  is  felt  that  England,  with  its  fogs, 
and  glooms,  and  ever-changing  climate,  is  left  far 
behind. 

The  Sabbath  is  over.  The  gale  has  passed 
away,  and  left  no  traces  of  its  power  upon  the  face 
of  the  deep,  now  smooth  and  placid.  With  un- 
ruffled surface,  as  if  it  had  never  been  agitated, 
the  sea  gently  rises  and  falls,  imparting  scarcely 
any  perceptible  movement  to  the  immense  and 
powerful  fabric,  which  now  urges  her  rapid  prog- 
ress through  the  water,  like  the  courser  straining 
every  nerve  to  reach  the  appointed  goal.  The 
outspread  awning  extends  a  grateful  shade  over 
the  spacious  after-deck,  and  a  gay  and  joyous 
multitude  is  gathered  there.  Children,  set  free 
from  the  imprisonment  of  the  close  and  suffocating 
cabins  below,  and  no  longer  laboring  under  the 
depressing  influence  of  seasickness,  are  racing 
along  the  decks  with  all  the  careless  hilarity  of 
youth.  Mothers  are  toying  with  their  infant 
charge.  The  busy  needle  and  the  crochet-hook, 
plied  by  nimble  fingers,  are  fulfilling  their  duty. 
Books  and  chess-boards  are  in  demand.  Every 
thing  wears  a  smiling  aspect.  Even  the  thorough- 
bred horse,  having  ridden   out   the   storm  in    his 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  433 

box  on  deck,  and  the  two  monstrous  sheep  from 
the  Cotswold  Hills,  as  they  waddle  about  the  lower 
deck,  appear  pleased  at  the  change  in  the  weather. 
Indeed,  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  the  ship  has 
been  engaged  in  a  protracted  conflict  with  the 
elements,  except  it  be  the  funnels  whitened  to  the 
top  with  the  spray  that  has  dashed  against  them 
and  left  them  incrusted  with  salt;  the  broken 
framework  at  the  bows,  and  the  solitary  piece  of 
wreck  left  hanging  to  the  davits  when  the  life- 
boat was  wrenched  away ;  together  with  the 
clothes  of  seamen  and  officers  and  passengers, 
spread  out  in  the  forepart  of  the  vessel  to  dry  in 
the  rays  of  the  now  unclouded  sun. 

It  is  interesting  to  survey  the  different  groups 
into  which  the  occupants  of  the  deck  are  divided. 
Yonder  is  the  family  of  a  wealthy  planter,  pro- 
ceeding with  a  train  of  domestics  to  Bogota,  in  the 
far  interior  of  South  America,  where  he  flourishes 
as  a  large  landed  proprietor,  whose  possessions 
are  designed  to  be  enriched  by  the  well-bred 
stock  forming  part  of  the  cargo.  The  sedate, 
quiet-looking  gentleman,  whose  silvery  locks  de- 
note that  more  than  sixty  summers  have  passed 
over  his  head,  is  said  to  be  the  president  of  the 
privy  council  in  the  British  island  which  contains 
his  home.  The  matron  at  his  elbow  is  his  wife  ; 
and  the  two  young  ladies  near  to  them  are  their 
daughters,  whose  pale  and  sickly  aspect  would 
seem  to  indicate  that  they  have  crossed  the  At- 
lantic in  vain  search  after  health  ;  while  the  sable 
habiliments   of  the    party   show    that    they   have 


434         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

recently  endured  the  pang  of  separation  from  some 
one  allied  to  them  by  affection  or  blood.  A 
puisne  judge  from  one  of  the  colonies  promenades 
the  deck,  with  his  wife  hanging  on  his  arm ;  while 
their  children,  some  of  them  subjects  of  sore 
affliction,  may  be  seen  at  play  below,  except  one, 
whose  more  distressing  case  is  hidden  from  sight. 
A  general  in  the  service  of  Louis  Napoleon  figures 
among  the  passengers ;  and  an  English  professor 
of  the  healing  art,  remarkable  for  nothing  except 
that  he  has  imbibed  skeptical  notions,  of  which  he 
appears  to  be  half  ashamed,  while  his  pious  and 
intelligent  wife  is  wholly  so.  A  thick  volume, 
which  he  has  handed  to  a  missionary  as  "  a  very 
deep  book,"  turns  out  to  be  a  Socialist  publication, 
containing  a  miserably  shallow,  feeble,  and  impu- 
dent attempt  to  invalidate  the  holy  Scriptures,  and 
set  aside  man's  accountability  for  his  belief  and 
his  actions. 

A  group  near  the  wheel-house  is  made  up  of 
West  India  planters.  There  are  several  from 
Barbadoes  ;  one  of  whom,  a  tall,  thin,  elderly  per- 
sonage, once  sympathized  with  the  views  and 
feelings  of  a  wicked  faction  who  destroyed  the 
Wesleyan  chapel  in  that  island  many  years  ago. 
But  he  has  lived  to  come  under  better  and  holier 
influences;  and  he  now  rejoices  over  the  downfall 
of  slavery,  which  in  former  time  he  was  ready  to 
uphold,  if  needful,  by  sacrilege  and  murder. 
Another,  from  Jamaica,  has  adopted  the  narrow 
views  which  have  long  characterized  his  class  in 
that  island,  and  contributed  largely  to  bring  upon 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  435 

it  the  blighting  displeasure  of  a  righteous  God,  and 
to  overspread  a  beautiful  colony  with  desolation 
and  ruin.  A  new  class  of  men,  influenced  by 
noble  views,  and  adopting  a  more  generous  and 
common-sense  policy,  must  be  raised  up  to  super- 
intend its  cultivation  ere  Jamaica  will  arise  from 
the  dust,  and  share  the  agricultural  and  commer- 
cial prosperity  which  is  revisiting  other  British 
possessions  in  the  Caribbean  Sea.  A  missionary 
party,  also,  swells  the  number  of  passengers.  A 
Baptist  missionary,  after  a  few  months'  absence  to 
recruit  his  health,  is  returning  to  his  pastoral 
charge  in  the  interior  of  Jamaica,  having  left  his 
family  in  England  until  it  shall  be  seen  whether 
his  spare  frame  has,  by  the  brief  sojourn  "at  home," 
acquired  sufficient  vigor  to  endure  the  wasting 
labors  of  a  tropical  climate.  The  meek  and  quiet 
spirit  which  he  breathes,  together  with  a  shrewd 
and  discriminating  knowledge  of  men  and  things, 
augurs  well  for  the  Churches  that  shall  be  placed 
under  his  pastoral  care.  The  other,  a  Wesleyan 
missionary,  after  several  years'  residence  in  En- 
gland, preceded  by  seventeen  years  of  interesting 
toil  among  the  negroes  of  the  Caribbean  group,  is 
going  back  with  his  family  to  enter  again  upon  that 
fruitful  scene  of  labor.  Sable  vestments  tell  of 
recent  inroads  made  by  death  upon  that  domestic 
circle.  Three  youthful  females,  not  in  mourning, 
help  to  make  up  the  party,  being  the  children  of  a 
missionary  laborer  still  in  the  field,  who,  after 
seven  years'  absence  at  school,  are  returning  to  the 
shelter  of  the  paternal  roof. 
28 


436         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

A  respectable-looking  elderly  gentleman,  of  true 
French  loquacity,  exhibits  at  his  button-hole  the 
symbol  of  the  /%■/<?;?  d'homieur ;  and,  on  inquiry, 
it  is  ascertained  that  he  is  proceeding  to  Guade- 
loupe, to  assume  the  administration  of  the  govern- 
ment of  that  colony.  Another,  with  well-cultivated 
mustache  and  beard,  but  a  decided  mulatto,  is 
on  his  way  to  the  penal  settlement  of  Cayenne, 
whither,  under  the  iron  rule  of  the  Bonaparte  who 
had  grasped  the  reins  of  government  with  ener- 
getic hand,  so  many  unfortunate  Frenchmen  have 
been  banished.  He  goes  to  fill  some  important 
judicial  appointment  in  that  region  of  suffering  and 
death.  A  considerable  company  of  French  people 
of  both  sexes,  mostly  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  are 
proceeding  to  California,  in  hope  of  reaping,  as 
professors  of  the  drama,  a  golden  harvest  in  that 
community  of  treasure-seekers  ;  and  two  French 
families,  comprising  three  generations,  are  return- 
ing, after  a  visit  to  Europe,  to  their  adopted  home 
in  one  of  the  colonies  of  Spain. 

Onward  "  La  Plata  "  speeds,  and  casts  behind 
her  more  than  three  hundred  miles  per  day.  With 
outspread  sails,  and  the  engines  taxed  to  their 
utmost  power,  it  is  wonderful — it  is  fearful — to 
look  over  the  stern,  and  behold  the  rapidity  with 
which  the  huge  ship  throws  aside  the  yielding 
waters,  and  dashes  onward  to  the  goal.  By  the 
fury  of  the  tempest  more  than  two  days  of  the 
fifteen  allotted  for  her  passage  have  been  lost, 
and  she  must  not  lose  her  good  name.  "  Keep 
her  going,"  is  the  word,  and  well  is  the  command 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  437 

observed.  Round  and  round  go  the  ponderous 
wheels,  with  untiring  play ;  out  of  both  her  capa- 
cious funnels  pour  dense  black  continuous  columns 
of  smoke,  stretching  away  for  miles,  as  they  unfold 
themselves  in  rolling  clouds.  Brightly  gleams 
the  fire,  deep  down  in  the  hold ;  while  the  en- 
gineers' assistants,  seen  from  the  deck  through 
the  iron  grating,  all  begrimed  and  sooty,  supply, 
with  ceaseless  and  noisy  activity,  the  all-consum- 
ing furnace.  Day  after  day  the  vessel  rises 
perceptibly,  and  sits  more  lightly  on  the  waters, 
as  her  heavy  freight  of  coal  rapidly  wastes  its 
substance,  not  its  "  sweetness,"  "  on  the  desert 
air." 

Onward  she  speeds,  without  intermission. 
Night  and  day  her  massive  machinery  keeps  in 
motion,  and  away  she  flies.  "  What  has  she  made 
to-day }  "  is  the  eager  inquiry  of  many  of  the 
passengers  when  the  daily  report  of  the  vessel's 
progress  is  posted  in  the  lobby.  "  Two  hundred 
and  ninety-one  miles  in  twenty-four  hours ;  that 
is  capital!"  "Three  hundred  and  nine  miles. 
Well  done,  '  La  Plata!  '  "  "Three  hundred  and 
sixteen  miles.  Hurrah !  we  shall  soon  see  St. 
Thomas,  and  may  yet  be  in  time  for  the  homeward 
steamer." 

Onward  she  speeds.  And  now  a  blue  and  cloud- 
less sky  stretches  overhead,  while  the  daily-in- 
creasing heat  drives  all  the  passengers  within  the 
friendly  shade  of  the  awning  for  shelter  from 
burning  rays.  Shoals  of  porpoises  are  seen  in  the 
distance,  disporting  in  the  waves,  slowly  and  lazily 


438         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

lifting  their  backs  above  the  surface,  and  then  dis- 
appearing to  emerge  again,  as  if  they  reveled  in  the 
very  luxuriance  of  enjoyment.  Flying-fish,  dart- 
ing in  numbers  from  the  bows  of  the  vessel,  dis- 
play for  a  moment  their  tiny  wings,  glittering  like 
molten  silver  in  their  rapid  flight  from  the  unknown 
danger  which  has  invaded  their  quiet,  before  they 
sink  again  into  their  native  element.  Every  thing 
indicates  that  "  La  Plata  "  is  nearing  the  imaginary 
line  by  which  geographers  mark  the  northern 
boundary  of  the  tropics  ;  and,  before  the  Sabbath 
dawns  again,  that  boundary  is  passed,  and  the 
thermometer  stands  at  nearly  80°  in  the  shade. 

It  is  now  the  morning  of  the  holy  day — the 
Lord's  day — which,  with  wisdom  worthy  of  him- 
self, and  in  matchless  benevolence  to  man,  the 
almighty  Governor  of  the  world  requires  to  be 
consecrated  to  religion.  Blessed  day,  best  of  all 
the  seven ! — Heaven's  choice  gift  to  man,  speak- 
ing, with  silent,  resistless  eloquence,  of  God;  the 
standing,  imperishable  memorial  of  man's  im- 
mortal nature  and  his  lofty  destiny.  It  is  not  for- 
gotten in  "  La  Plata  "  that  the  Sabbath  has  dawned. 
No  sports  are  in  progress.  The  chess-boards 
are  cleared  away,  and  a  subdued  tone  of  feel- 
ing prevails  throughout  the  ship.  Here  and  there 
a  passenger  may  be  seen  quietly  seated  in  the 
saloon,  or  within  some  friendly  shade  on  deck, 
with  a  book,  the  size  and  form  of  which  would  in- 
dicate that  it  is  of  all  books  the  best — the  volume 
of  revealed  truth.  Even  among  those  whose 
exuberance  of   animal    spirits    declares    itself  in 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  439 

boisterous  merriment  and  sport  on  other  clays, 
there  is  a  sobriety  of  deportment  which  shows  that 
by  them  also  the  influence  of  the  Sabbath  is  felt. 
The  breakfast  hour  is  drawing  nigh,  when  the 
purser  approaches  one  of  the  small  reading-parties 
grouped  in  the  saloon,  and,  delivering  the  compli- 
ments of  Captain  Weller  to  the  missionary  who  is 
of  the  party,  requests  to  be  informed  if  it  will  be 
agreeable  to  him  to  conduct  Divine  service  after 
breakfast  in  the  saloon.  The  answer  is  in  the 
affirmative,  and  the  word  passes  through  the  ship 
that  there  will  be  "  Church "  at  half  past  ten 
o'clock.  As  the  appointed  hour  draws  nigh  a 
temporary  reading-desk,  covered  with  the  Union 
Jack,  Britain's  pride  and  glorious  ensign,  is  fixed 
on  one  side  of  the  saloon,  near  the  center,  and 
seats  are  arranged  to  accommodate  the  greatest 
number  that  the  space  will  admit.  The  bell  begins 
to  toil,  and  the  saloon  soon  presents  a  pleasing 
and  animated  scene.  There  are  many  Roman 
Catholics  among  the  passengers,  but  not  one  is  so 
much  under  the  influence  of  bigotry  as  to  turn  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  summons  of  the  church-going  bell : 
"  O  come,  let  us  worship  and  bow  down :  let  us 
kneel  before  the  Lord  our  maker."  All  direct  their 
footsteps  to  the  saloon,  and  seat  themselves  with 
decorous  gravity  on  the  seats  arranged  for  their 
reception.  Even  the  half-skeptical  surgeon,  with 
his  meek-looking  wife  upon  his  arm,  is  seen,  with 
gilded  Bible  and  Prayer-book,  marching  to  take 
the  seat  which  two  of  "  La  Plata's  "  officers  have 
politely  vacated  in  honor  of  the  lady.     The  cap- 


440         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

tain,  and  all  the  officers  not  on  duty,  are  grouped 
together,  in  the  neat  uniform  of  the  company,  near 
the  upper  end  of  the  saloon,  the  central  seats  are 
filled  with  hardy,  bushy-whiskered  tars,  in  clean 
dark -blue  shirts,  edged  and  turned  up  with  white  ; 
while  the  stewards,  with  their  staff  of  assistants, 
and  several  deck  passengers,  unable  to  push  their 
way  into  the  well-filled  saloon,  occupy  the  lobby. 
The  bell  ceases ;  and  then  ascends  to  heaven  the 
voice  of  prayer  and  praise  in  the  beautiful  liturgic- 
al service  of  the  Church  of  England.  If  the  eye, 
glancing  over  that  assembly,  fails  to  discover  in- 
dications of  intense  devotional  feeling,  there  is, 
nevertheless,  every -where  a  quiet  decorum,  even 
on  the  part  of  those  whose  ignorance  of  the  lan- 
guage might  have  furnished  them  with  a  reasonable 
apology  for  declining  to  be  present.  Many  are 
furnished  with  Prayer-books,  and  the  responses 
are  given  with  pleasing  distinctness ;  while  the 
life-giving  word  is  heard  with  grave  and  earnest 
attention.  The  solemn  service  is  over,  and  the 
benediction  pronounced  within  the  time  pre- 
scribed ;  for  it  is  necessary  that  the  captain  and 
other  officers  should  be  on  deck  before  the  sun  is 
on  the  meridian,  that  they,  may  ascertain  the  true 
position  of  the  ship,  and  mark  the  distance  she 
has  run  since  the  preceding  noon.  The  sextants 
are  now  in  requisition,  while  the  passengers  and 
crew  are  scattered  over  the  vessel ;  and  the  agree- 
able intelligence  is  speedly  posted,  that  the  ship 
has  made  three  hundred  and  seven  miles  in  the 
last  twenty-four  hours. 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  441 

Monday  night  has  come.  Fourteen  days  have 
sped  since  "  La  Plata  "  loosed  from  her  moorings 
at  Southampton.  The  look-out  has  been  doubled 
at  the  bows  ;  and  two  or  three  officers,  with  -tele- 
scope to  the  eye,  are  earnestly  sweeping  the  hori- 
zon. One  figure,  enwrapped  in  shaggy  coat,  (for 
a  slight  shower  occasionally  passes  over  the  ship,) 
is  recognized  as  the  captain.  Two  or  three  of  the 
passengers  still  remain  on  deck,  although  it  is  near 
the  midnight  hour,  and  frequently  join  the  party 
on  the  look-out.  It  is  about  the  time  when,  accord- 
ing to  the  calculations  which  have  been  made, 
land  should  be  visible  ;  and  the  captain  and  offi- 
cers are  expecting  every  moment  to  discover  the 
small  island  of  Sombrero,  the  first  which  it  is 
usual  for  the  royal  mail  steamers  to  make  on  their 
outward  passage.  Two  bells  after  midnight,  and 
no  land  appears.  The  night  is  squally  and  cloudy, 
and  the  moon  is  often  overcast.  Possibly,  the  is- 
land being  low  and  flat,  the  ship  may  have  run  past 
it  altogether.  Four  bells  toll  the  lapse  of  another 
hour,  while  still  there  is  no  appearance  of  land  ; 
and  the  two  or  three  passengers  who  have  lingered 
on  deck,  gathering  from  the  conversation  of  the 
officers  that  Sombrero  must  have  been  passed,  re- 
tire, reluctant  and  disappointed,  to  their  berths.' 
Day  breaks,  and  the  intelligence  spreads  through 
the  ship  that  there  is  land  in  sight.  The  wel- 
come information  banishes  slumber,  and  many 
of  the  passengers  dress  hastily  and  assemble  on 
deck,  gazing  with  intense  interest  on  the  high  land 
of  Virgin  Gorda,  one  of  the  Virgin  group  of  islands. 


442         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

The  mountain  land  of  Tortola  soon  after  appears 
in  sight ;  and,  by  the  time  a  hasty  breakfast  has 
been  disposed  of,  ''  La  Plata "  has  her  prow 
directed  toward  the  harbor  of  St.  Thomas.  An 
American  frigate,  with  a  commodore's  broad 
pennant,  is  seen  at  anchor  at  the  quarantine 
ground,  a  short  distance  from  the  mouth  of  the 
harbor ;  and  it  is  afterward  ascertained  that  she  is 
the  "  Columbine,"  with  the  small-pox  prevalent 
among  her  crew — a  disease  which  receives  a  fear- 
ful aggravation  of  malignity  when  it  breaks  out 
within  the  tropics.  There  is  land  on  both  sides 
of  our  ship  ;  for  she  has  now  entered  the  mouth 
of  the  harbor,  and  the  pretty  town  gradually  comes 
into  view.  It  is  a  place  of  romantic  aspect,  as 
seen  from  the  shipping.  The  business  part  of  the 
town  stretches  along  the  shore  for  the  best  part  of 
a  mile,  containing  numerous  and  well-stocked 
stores  and  shops  ;  while  the  principal  residences  of 
the  inhabitants  rise  one  above  another,  on  three 
small  hills,  presenting  the  appearance  of  three 
pyramids.  The  white  buildings  are  here  and 
•there  variegated  with  yellow  and  other  colors,  and 
the  roofs  are  painted  red  ;  finely  contrasting  with 
the  rich  tropical  verdure  which  clothes  the  higher 
hills  in  the  background  to  their  summits.  At  the 
point  of  one  of  these  pyramids  is  a  tower  which 
bears  the  designation  of  "  Bluebeard's  C'astle," 
probably  the  former  residence  of  a  buccaneer 
chief  whose  character  and  doings  bears  a  resem- 
blance to  those  of  the  hero  of  the  story  so  familiar 
to   our    childhood.       A    considerable    amount   of 


Crossing  the  Atlantic.  443 

shipping  is  at  anchor  in  the  bay,  from  which  may- 
be seen  floating  the  Danish,  French,  American, 
and  Spanish  flags  ;  and,  conspicuous  among  the 
numerous  vessels  which  crowd  the  spacious  land- 
locked harbor  are  the  several  ships  of  the  Royal 
Mail  Steam-Packet  Company,  distinguished  by 
the  Company's  flag  flying  at  the  mast-head,  waiting 
to  receive  each  its  consignment  of  mails,  cargo, 
and  passengers,  to  be  carried  to  their  destination  , 
some  to  Havana  and  the  gulf  of  Mexico  ;  others 
to  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  over  which  they  cross 
to  the  Pacific ;  others,  again,  to  Hayti  and 
Jamaica  ;  and  others  to  Demerara,  and  the  several 
islands  comprised  in  what  is  termed,  among  the 
company's  officers  and  agents,  "  the  island  route." 
The  vessel  has  scarcely  reached  her  moorings 
when  she  is  boarded  by  several  parties  from  the 
shore,  and  the  unwelcome  intelligence  spreads 
through  "  La  Plata  "  that  none  of  the  passengers 
can  be  permitted  to  land.  The  terrible  cholera 
has  found  his  way  thither  ;  a  fearful  panic  prevails, 
business  is  almost  entirely  suspended  ;  and  scarcely 
any  thing  can  be  attended  to  but  the  sick,  and 
dying,  and  the  dead,  who  are  borne  by  scores  to 
the  grave  day  after  day.  The  quarantine  laws  are 
rigidly  enforced  at  all  the  islands  where  the  pesti- 
lence has  not  yet  broken  out ;  and  a  notice  is 
posted  in  the  lobby  of  "  La  Plata  "  that  none  of 
the  passengers  can  be  carried  on  in  the  company's 
ships,  if  they  venture  to  go  on  shore  at  St.  Thomas, 
as  they  will  not  be  permitted  to  land  at  the  several 
islands.     In   the   neighboring    island  of    Tortola, 


444         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

also,  the  plague  is  committing  dreadful  ravages ; 
and  at  Nevis,  too,  numbers  are  dying  every  day. 
Such  is  the  gloomy  greeting  which  our  passengers 
meet  at  St.  Thomas  ;  and  blank  disappointment 
is  the  expression  on  the  face  of  many  who  were  of 
late  reveling  in  the  delightful  anticipation  of  a 
pleasant  run  on  shore,  associated  with  gay  visions 
of  oranges,  and  bananas,  and  pine-apples,  and 
the  numerous  and  varied  productions  of  a  tropical 
clime. 

All  is  now  bustle  and  excitement  in  "  La  Plata." 
With  an  intercolonial  steamer  on  either  side,  and 
a  sort  of  temporary  wooden  bridge  stretching  from 
her  gangway  to  theirs,  the  process  of  transshipping 
cargo  and  passengers,  with  their  baggage,  is  carried 
on  with  all  possible  dispatch ;  and,  in  a  few  hours, 
both  the  smaller  vessels  are  seen,  under  full  power 
of  steam,  passing  out  of  the  harbor,  while  other 
two  are  immediately  warped  alongside  the  trans- 
atlantic ship.  At  daylight  on  the  following  morn- 
ing these  also,  having  received  each  its  own  por- 
tion of  mails  and  passengers,  proceed  to  their  des- 
tination ;  and  the  large  company  of  persons,  who 
for  more  than  two  weeks  have  been  associated  on 
terms  of  greater  or  less  intimacy,  are  soon  scattered 
widely  abroad  over  the  world,  to  assemble  no 
more  until  the  last  trumpet  shall  summon  them  all 
to  the  judgment  throne. 


A  Child  of  Sorrow.  445 


XXII. 

A  Child  of  Sorro^w. 

On  thee,  0  my  God,  I  rest,  letting  life  float  freely  on ; 
For  I  know  tlie  last  is  best  when  the  crown  of  joy  is  won. 
In  thy  might  all  things  I  bear,  in  thy  love  find  bitters  sweet, 
And  with  all  my  grief  and  care  sit  in  patience  at  thy  feet. 

Fkom  tue  German  of  A.  H.  Fkanoke. 

C>ii 

tT  was  a  painful  spectacle  that  met  my  gaze 
when,  standing  by  the  bedside  of  one  sadly 
disfigured  by  leprous  disease,  a  feeble  voice 
said,  ''  The  Lord's  will  be  done,  minister.  If  the 
Master  had  seen  good,  I  should  have  liked  you  to 
see  me  laid  in  my  last  resting-place.  But  it  is  all 
right,  and  I  shall  meet  you  in  our  Father's  house 
above." 

Such  were  the  hopeful  words  of  a  true  child  of 
sorrow,  in  whom  the  all-sufficiency  of  Divine  grace 
to  sustain  and  comfort  in  lengthened  and  compli- 
cated affliction  had  been  wondrously  exemplified, 
and  to  whom  I  was  bidding  farewell  on  the  eve  of 
embarking  for  my  native  land.  For  ten  years  I 
had  been  accustomed  to  visit  that  chamber  of 
suffering,  imparting  the  consolations  of  the 
Gospel  to  a  chastened  saint,  receiving  from  her 
example  of  cheerful  resignation  lessons  of  sub- 
mission and  patient  endurance,  and  marking  the 


44^         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

triumph  of  a  lowly,  trusting  spirit,  that  in  the 
midst  of  overwhelming  sorrow  could  always  re- 
joice in  God. 

When  first  I  became  acquainted  with  Mrs.  H. 
she  had  lately  become  a  widow  under  circum- 
stances of  a  most  painful  character.  The  husband 
of  her  youth  and  partner  of  her  ripened  years,  in 
a  fit  of  temporary  derangement,  had  put  an  end 
to  his  own  life.  They  had  lived  together  most 
happily,  until  pecuniary  embarrassment,  preying 
upon  a  mind  not  strengthened  and  sustained  by 
the  experience  of  religion,  caused  reason  to  give 
way,  and  he  sought  refuge  from  his  grief  by  drown- 
ing himself,  leaving  a  widow  and  three  children 
overwhelmed  with  affliction  at  their  great  loss,  for 
he  had  been  both  a  kind  husband  and  a  tender, 
loving  parent.  How  fearfully  the  pang  of  separa- 
tion was  aggravated  by  the  tragic  mode  in  which 
it  was  brought  about  can,  perhaps,  only  be  fully 
apprehended  by  those  who  have  passed  through  a 
similar  trial!  It  fell  with  all  the  weight  of  a 
crushing  terror  upon  the  loving  hearts  so  tenderly 
united  to  each  other,  and  so  fondly  attached  to 
him,  the  family  head,  who  had  suddenly  dropped 
into  a  premature  grave. 

Religion,  with  its  benignant  influence,  minis- 
tered consolation  to  the  family  and  soothed  the 
wounded  spirits  of  the  bereaved  ones,  for  they  had 
happily  received  the  saving  truths  of  the  Gospel, 
and  sheltered  by  faith  beneath  the  wings  of  the 
Divme  mercy.  They  found  in  this  dark  hour  of 
sorrow  how  good  and  sweet  it  is  to  have  the  soul 


A  Child  of  Sorrow.  447 

resting  on  God,  and  sustained  with  the  hope 
of  immortal  life.  But  the  heart-stricken  widow 
had  still  one  earthly  source  of  comfort  and  joy, 
shedding  a  cheerful  light  around  her,  and  bright- 
ening the  gloom  of  that  dark  shadow  which 
had  fallen  across  the  pathway  of  her  life. 
Her  youngest  child  was  a  son,  a  gracious  youth, 
whose  heart  had  been  surrendered  to  God,  and 
whose  early  life,  not  yet  ripened  into  man- 
hood, was  giving  rich  promise  of  a  good  and  use- 
ful career.  Glad  and  grateful  was  the  mother's 
heart  when  she  saw  her  two  lovely  girls  turn  aside 
from  all  the  gayeties  and  allurements  of  the  world 
and  choose,  like  Mary,  the  better  part ;  and  be- 
held in  them,  as  youthful  members  of  the  Church 
of  Christ,  the  development  of  an  earnest  and 
practical  piety.  But  her  cup  was  full  of  bless- 
ing when  her  heart's  yearnings  were  gratified,  and 
the  fervent  prayers  of  some  years  were  answered 
in  the  conversion  of  her  boy.  Her  whole  soul  ex- 
panded with  joy  and  gratitude  to  God  when  she 
saw  unfolded  in  her  cherished  son  those  qualities 
which  are  the  best  guarantee  for  a  blameless  and 
happy  life. 

It  was  an  inexpressible  relief  to  the  widow,  when 
the  great  trouble  came  to  the  family  in  the  loss  of 
its  head,  to  look  upon  the  manly  youth  as  one 
who  could  both  soothe  her  grief  and  guard  her  in 
some  measure  against  that  tide  of  evils  and  cares 
which  the  husband's  death  could  not  fail  to  let  in 
upon  her.  And  well  and  nobly  did  he  respond  to 
her  hopes.      There  are  occasions  in  human  life 


448  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

when  the  events  of  a  day  will  do  the  work  of  years 
in  the  development  of  character.  All  at  once  the 
youth  expands  into  the  man  of  full-grown  facul- 
ties, or  the  girl  shoots  up  into  the  mature,  sedate, 
and  thoughtful  woman,  armed  with  unshrmking 
fortitude  to  enter  upon  the  battle  of  life.  So  it  was 
with  the  widow's  son.  The  calamity  that  brought 
such  terrible  grief  into  the  hitherto  happy  family 
seemed  to  awaken  and  call  into  full  and  vigorous 
life  the  nobler  faculties  of  the  young  man. 
Though  scarcely  half-way  through  his  teens,  he 
ste;pped  into  the  place  made  vacant  by  his  father's 
death,  a  clear-headed,  sagacious  man  of  business, 
the  pillar  of  the  bereaved  household,  the  mother's 
joy,  and  the  sisters'  pride  and  hope.  It  is  well  we 
do  not  see  far  enough  into  the  future  to  perceive 
the  dark  clouds  that  are  gathering  upon  our  path, 
or  how  would  every  present  joy  be  blighted  and 
life  rendered  supremely  wretched  by  the  anticipa- 
tion of  coming  woe  ! 

A  year  had  fled,  and  time  had  healed  in  some 
measure  the  heart-wounds  of  the  family.  The 
young  protector  of  his  widowed  mother  and  un- 
married sisters  had  developed  qualities  which 
commanded  universal  esteem  and  confidence,  and 
was  advancing  with  rapid  steps  to  an  advantageous 
business  position.  His  excellent  prospects  might 
be  improved  by  a  voyage  to  New  York  and  per- 
sonal communication  with  men  of  business  in  that 
emporium  of  commerce.  It  Avas  before  the  time 
when  steam  afforded  the  means  of  secure  and 
speedy  transit,  and  the  young  man  took  his  pas- 


A  Child  of  Sorrow.  449 

sage  in  one  of  the  numerous  merchant  vessels 
bringing  continental  produce  to  the  Western  Ar- 
chipelago. He  embarked,  expecting  to  be  away 
only  a  few  weeks.  But — mysterious  Providence  ! 
— the  unfortunate  vessel  foundered  at  sea  and  was 
never  heard  of  more. 

The  time  came  when  those  whom  he  had  left 
behind  looked  with  anxious  expectation,  whenever 
a  vessel  came  from  the  States,  to  hear  of  the  safe 
arrival  of  the  loved  one,  to  be  followed  by  his 
speedy  return.  But  no  letter  came.  Days  and 
weeks  passed,  and  expectation  deepened  into 
agonizing  suspense  and  anxiety.  How  often  did 
those  fond  hearts  pour  themselves  out  in  earnest 
prayer  for  the  safety  of  the  absent  one,  hope  still 
flattering  them  with  the  prospect  of  his  return, 
who,  alas  !  was  slumbering  in  death  beneath  the 
Atlantic  wave ! 

Months  rolled  on.  Still  no  tidings,  and  sorrow, 
aggravated  by  suspense,  settled  down  again  upon 
the  family,  which  had  already  so  keenly  felt  the 
storms  of  adversity.  Hope  whispered  that  he 
might  yet  turn  up  to  gladden  their  eyes  and  hearts 
with  his  presence,  for  had  not  many  done  so  after 
being  a  long  time  missing.?  But  as  the  year 
passed  away,  and  intelligence  came  that  the  ship 
had  never  reached  her  destination,  and  other  ves- 
sels were  missing,  supposed  to  have  perished  in  a 
storm  which  occurred  about  that  time  near  the 
American  coast,  hope  gradually  died  out,  giving 
place  to  the  dreadful  certainty  that  his  yountr  life 
had  been  engulfed  by  the  stormy  ocean,  and  that 


450        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  manly  beauty  of  that  form  so  dearly  loved 
would  rejoice  their  sight  no  more. 

So  it  proved.  No  tidings  of  the  hapless  bark 
were  ever  received.  Like  many  another  vessel 
traversing  the  Atlantic  between  the  northern  con- 
tinent and  the  isles  which  inclose  the  Caribbean 
Sea,  she  went  down  with  all  hands  on  board. 
None  remained  alive  to  relate  the  details  of  the 
sad  catastrophe  which  had  suddenly  swept  so 
many  human  beings  into  eternity.  And  crushed 
hearts  were  left  behind,  painfully  to  realize  the 
evanescent  and  uncertain  character  of  earth's  best 
and  purest  blessings. 

Dark  indeed  was  the  gloom  which  settled  upon 
the  spirit  of  the  poor  widow  as  the  stern  conviction 
was  forced  upon  her,  after  long  resistance,  that 
the  only  son,  so  well  deserving  all  the  fond  love 
she  lavished  upon  him,  had  found  a  watery  grave, 
and  that  an  inscrutable  Providence  had  again 
thrown  her,  with  blighted  prospects,  upon  a  course 
of  privation  and  anxious  care.  But  still  upheld 
by  the  all-sufficiency  of  divine  grace,  she  could 
bow  in  uncomplaining  submission  to  God's  will, 
and  say,  "  It  is  the  Lord,  let  him  do  what  seemeth 
him  good." 

It  was  a  dark  and  mysterious  dispensation,  but 
a  ray  of  brightness  shone  athwart  the  cloud.  The 
eldest  daughter  had  been  married  to  a  worthy 
man,  who  was  willing  generously  to  share  his  home 
and  the  proceeds  of  a  not  very  lucrative  business 
with  the  bereaved  ones,  and  devote  himself  to 
more  wearying  toil,  that  he  might  impart  a  higher 


A  CJiild  of  Sorrow.  45 1 

degree  of  comfort  to  the  refuge  he  was  able  to 
afford  them.  In  all  this  the  sorrowing  widow  and 
mother  recognized  the  loving  kindness  of  the 
Lord,  regarding  it  as  proof  that  the  heavenly  Fa- 
ther was  not  unmindful  of  her  in  her  affliction. 
With  thankful  heart  she  acknowledged  that  love 
and  wisdom  were  beneficently  intermingled  in 
those  chastenings  of  that  Father's  hand  which,  for 
the  present,  were  not  joyous,  but  grievous. 

All  this  was,  however,  but  the  beginning  of  sor- 
rows to  the  afflicted  widow.  Great  bitterness  had 
yet  to  be  mingled  with  the  cup  she  was  called  to 
drink.  A  most  wasting  and  wearying  tribulation 
had  yet  to  bruise  her  chastened  spirit  before  it  was 
made  fully  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints 
in  light,  aud  fitted  to  bear  the  far  more  exceeding 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory  which  her  heavenly 
Father's  love  was  preparing  for  her  enjoyment  in 
that  brighter  world  within  the  vail.  In  her 
younger  days  a  face  of  remarkable  beauty,  and  a 
figure  of  faultless  grace,  had  distinguished  the 
Quadroon  maiden,  which,  but  for  the  influence  of 
religion  early  embraced,  would  have  exposed  her 
to  many  temptations.  And  even  now  that  youth- 
ful charms  have  somewhat  faded  with  ripening 
years,  she  is  still  a  woman  of  queenly  presence, 
and  sufiflcient  grace  of  form  and  feature  remains 
to  bear  witness  to  the  charms  with  which  she  was 
gifted  in  the  days  that  are  past. 

It  is  upon  that  person  once  so  lovely,  and  still 
so  fine  in  its  proportions  and  graceful  in  its  motions, 
that  the  blghting  hand  of  the  destroyer  is  next  to 
29 


452  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

rest,  until,  wasted,  deformed,  and  mutilated,  it  is 
changed  into  an  object  which  exhibits  a  mournful 
contrast,  and  affords  a  painful  illustration  of  the 
apostle's  phraseology,  "  This  vile  body."  Very 
slowly  certain  changes  begin  to  show  themselves 
in  the  features,  gradually  obliterating  all  the 
lines  of  beauty  that  once  rendered  them  so 
attractive.  To  eyes  accustomed  to  the  develop- 
ments of  tropical  disease,  the  puffy  swellings,  pro- 
ducing great  disfigurement  of  the  countenance,  as 
they  present  themselves,  appear  to  be  the  heralds 
of  one  of  those  loathsome  leprous  complaints 
which  are  such  a  terrible  scourge  to  the  denizens 
of  countries  within,  or  near,  the  tropics.  The 
leprosy  is  an  insidious  disease,  that  with  fear- 
ful slowness,  but  with  unerring  certainty,  through 
a  long  course  of  years  preys  upon  the  extremities 
and  gradually  approaches  the  citadel  of  life,  until 
a  course  of  horrible  suffering  terminates  in  a  wel- 
come death.  This  terrible  evil  has  come  upon  the 
Christian  widow.  The  dread  malady  of  the  leper, 
with  its  long  train  of  humiliations  and  sufferings, 
slowly  reveals  its  hideous  symptoms;  and  it  be- 
comes evident  that  the  sorely-stricken  one,  who 
has  passed  through  such  a  succession  of  trials,  is 
marked  out  to  be  a  child  of  sorrow,  and  to 
endure  adversity  which  shall  end  only  when  the 
worn  and  wasted  frame  shall  sink  to  its  rest  in  the 
dust. 

Some  months  elapse,  after  the  disease  becomes 
too  apparent  for  its  real  character  to  be  mistaken, 
before  the  afflicted  one  is  necessitated  to  discon- 


A  Child  of  Sorrow.  453 

tinue  her  attendance  upon  those  ordinances  of  the 
sanctuary  which,  for  many  years,  have  been  her 
soul's  delight  and  source  of  strength,  and  she  is 
compelled  to  shut  herself  up  in  the  chamber  of 
suffering,  which  must  be  her  prison  until  she  is 
carried  thence  to  the  grave.  Meanwhile  she 
continues  to  meet  her  class  of  female  members  of 
the  Church,  and  weekly  to  administer  those  coun- 
sels of  godly  wisdom  by  which  many  have  been 
strengthened  in  the  conflict  of  life,  and  encouraged 
to  run  with  patience  the  race  set  before  them. 
How  diligently  and  earnestly  does  she  labor  in 
Christian  duties  !  How  anxiously  does  she  avail 
herself  of  all  religious  ordinances  !  The  night  is 
coming  when  she  can  no  longer  work.  She  sees 
clearly  the  dark  cloud  before  her  that  will  shortly 
enwrap  her  in  its  folds.  She  is  in  the  grasp  of  an 
enemy  not  to  be  shaken  off.  The  time  is  not 
far  distant  when  she  will  enter  the  sanctuary  of 
God  no  more,  and  she  must  be  a  prisoner  until 
her  Master  shall  send  her  release  by  death.  At 
present  no  opportunity  of  getting  or  doing  good  is 
omitted. 

At  length  she  is  no  longer  able  to  repair  to 
God's  house  and  hear  for  herself  the  word  of 
life.  The  weekly  class-meeting  is  held  in  the 
sick  chamber,  whither  the  members  repair  to  hold 
fellowship  with  their  afflicted  leader,  whom  they 
may  see  and  speak  to,  but  dare  not  touch.  Her 
chastened,  hallowed  spirit  seems  drawn,  through 
sanctified  suffering,  into  closer  communion  with 
God,  and  grows  in   conformity  to  the  likeness  of 


454         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  meek  and  lowly  Son  of  man.  And  many  a 
season  of  sweet  spiritual  refreshing  do  they 
realize  while  bowing  in  united  prayer  in  that 
chamber  of  the  sick,  pouring  out  their  hearts  be- 
fore the  Lord. 

It  was  about  the  time  that  her  health  began  to 
decline  that  I  became  associated  with  the  pastoral 
care  of  the  Church  in  which  this  daughter  of 
affliction  was  held  in  universal  esteem  as  one  of 
its  official  members.  For  a  few  months  only  I  saw 
her  in  her  place  in  the  sanctuary.  When  she 
could  no  more  be  seen  there  I  sought  her  in  her 
home.  There  I  often  listened  to  the  quiet  breath- 
ings of  a  soul  calmly  stayed  on  God,  whose  un- 
wavering reliance  upon  the  Divine  wisdom  and 
love  imparted  an  elasticity  and  cheerfulness  which 
no  amount  of  sorrow  seemed  sufficient  to  suppress. 
That  she  might  be  permitted  to  lay  the  weary, 
wasting  body  down,  and  pass  to  that  world  of 
unclouded  joy,  where  sickness  and  grief  are  never 
known,  was  certainly  an  object  of  strong  desire 
with  her;  but  there  was  always  the  most  perfect 
resignation.  Well  did  she  understand  the  linger- 
ing nature  of  the  malady  that  had  seized  upon  her  ; 
but  she  seemed  to  have  grown  so  fully  into  the 
mind  and  image  of  the  Lord  as  to  feel  and  say 
with  him,  "  O  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this 
cup  pass  from  me  :  nevertheless,  not  my  will,  but 
thine  be  done." 

For  seven  years  she  was  directly  under  my 
pastoral  charge  ;  and  during  three  other  years, 
when  my  duties    lay  elsewhere,  she  claimed  and 


A  Child  of  Sorrow.  455 

received  my  visits  whenever  business  called  me  to 
the  city.  The  chief  sorrow  that  pressed  upon  her 
mind  was  the  privation  of  religious  ordinances  ; 
which,  through  all  the  changes  of  her  life,  from 
her  youth,  had  been  her  great  delight.  To  meet, 
in  some  measure,  this  want,  I  was  accustomed,  six 
or  eight  times  in  each  year,  to  conduct  a  preaching 
service  in  the  room  adjoining  her  chamber  of  sick- 
ness ;  as  many  of  her  Christian  friends  attending 
as  the  apartment  would  conveniently  accommodate, 
the  room  being  always  full.  This  was  followed  on 
each  occasion  by  the  sacramental  ordinance. 
More  than  once  I  have  taken  a  journey  of  forty 
miles  for  the  purpose  of  affording  to  this  suffering 
saint  the  gratification  of  hearing  the  word  of  truth. 
Her  delight  in  these  services  was  very  great. 
Her  soul  fed  upon  them  with  the  joy  that  the 
famishing  may  be  supposed  to  feel  in  the  meal 
which  allays  the  craving  of  their  hunger ;  while 
others,  who  were  privileged  to  attend  them,  found 
them  to  be  eminently  seasons  of  refreshing  from 
the  presence  of  the  Lord. 

Years  rolled  on,  and  there  still  lay  the  submis- 
sive sufferer ;  the  loving  hands  of  two  excellent 
pious  daughters  ministering  to  her  need  and  com- 
fort with  tender  care  and  untiring  assiduity. 
Both  were  beautiful  to  contemplate  :  the  mother's 
unchanging  patience  under  the  complicated  afflic- 
tions that  were  surely  dragging  her  down  to  the 
grave,  and  the  never  wearying  filial  love  of  the 
daughters,  waiting  and  watching  to  soothe  and 
help  the  afflicted  one.     Slow — fearfully  slow — was 


456         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  progress  of  the  fatal  malady  that  was  disfigur- 
ing and  consuming  the  frail  body,  and  it  was  only 
in  the  lapse  of  months  and  years  that  its  inroads 
became  ajjparent.  Swelling  of  the  joints  first  took 
away  the  power  of  locomotion,  and  laid  the  patient 
prostrate.  As  time  rolled  on,  sores  and  ulcers, 
breaking  out  upon  the  hands  and  feet,  showed  the 
corrupted  state  of  the  blood.  No  power  of  medi- 
cine could  establish  a  healing  process  ;  and  gradu- 
ally both  fingers  and  toes  were  eaten  away,  and 
the  limbs  became  incurably  distorted  and  dis- 
abled. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  disease  the 
countenance  first  exhibited  its  sad  effects.  All 
traces  of  former  comeliness  were  soon  effaced  by 
painful  swellings  and  distortions,  and  the  unnatural 
appearance  of  the  skin,  which  is  the  usual  accom- 
paniment of  the  malady.  But,  with  this  exception, 
for  six  or  seven  years  its  deadly  ravages  chiefly 
affected  the  limbs,  eating  them  away  by  slow  de- 
grees. At  length  these  ravages  extended  to  the 
nobler  parts,  showing  that  it  was  approaching  the 
citadel  of  life.  Sores  and  ulcers  made  their  ap- 
pearance about  the  eyes,  and  other  parts  of  the 
head  and  face.  The  sight  became  extinguished, 
the  orbs  of  vision  being  eaten  away  as  the  ex- 
tremities had  been.  Then  the  hearing  began  to 
fail,  and  the  countenance  gradually  exhibited 
such  painful  manifestations  of  the  progress  of  the 
dire  disease  that  it  became  necessary  to  keep  it 
vailed. 

It   was   at    this    stage   of   the    malady   that    I 


A   Child  of  Sorrow.  457 

preached  for  the  last  time,  in  the  doorway  near  to 
her  bed  side,  and  afterward  bade  her  farewell,  to 
see  her  no  more  in  this  life.  For  nearly  ten  years 
she  had  lain  upon  that  bed,  scarcely  ever  free 
from  excruciating  pain,  after  having  been  most 
painfully  bereft  both  of  husband  and  son.  But  in 
all  this  she  charged  not  God  foolishly ;  exhibiting 
the  most  perfect  example  of  patient  suffering  it  has 
ever  been  my  lot  to  witness.  No  complaint  or 
murmur  was  ever  heard  to  drop  from  her  lips, 
even  by  those  who  were  in  constant  attendance 
upon  her,  through  all  the  weary  years  of  her  pro- 
tracted trial.  She  was  always  cheerful  and  happy  ; 
possessed  of  the  sweet  assurance  that  she  was  in 
the  hands  of  a  loving  Father,  who  could  do  no 
wrong ;  and  that  her  affliction,  in  his  unfailing 
wisdom,  was  working  for  her  a  far  more  exceeding 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  I  left  her  with 
those  words  upon  her  lips  which  form  the  com- 
mencement of  this  paper.  They  were  painfully 
and  indistinctly  uttered,  for  the  power  of  speech 
was  also  beginning  to  fail.  On  the  next  day,  after 
seventeen  years  of  missionary  toil,  I  embarked  on 
my  homeward  voyage. 

She  continued  to  suffer  on  for  a  few  months  lon- 
ger, when  the  welcome  messenger  came  at  length 
to  summon  her  to  the  joy  of  her  Lord.  In  sweet 
peace  and  triumph  she  left  the  corrupted,  suffering, 
mutilated  body  to  find  its  rest  in  the  dust;  while 
the  chastened  spirit  took  its  flight  to  the  triumph- 
ant Church  before  the  throne  of  God.  When  the 
news  of  her  departure  reached  me  some  thousands 


458         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

of  miles  across  the  sea,  rejoicing  in  the  all-sufficient 
grace  which  had  enabled  this  suffering  disciple, 
through  so  many  years,  to  exhibit  a  beautiful  ex- 
ample of  unfailing  patience  and  unmurmuring 
resignation,  I  thought  of  the  beautiful  words  of 
Charles  Wesley  : 

"  This  languishing  head  is  at  rest, 

Its  thinking  and  aching  are  o'er ; 
This  quiet  immovable  breast 

Is  heav'd  by  affliction  no  more  : 
This  heart  is  no  longer  the  seat 

Of  trouble  and  torturing  pain  ; 
It  ceases  to  flutter  and  beat, 

It  never  shall  flutter  again." 


The  Funeral  Sermon.  459 


XXIII. 

The  Funeral  Sermon. 

60  and  dig  my  grave  to  day  I 

Homeward  doth  my  journey  tend, 
And  I  lay  my  staff  away 

Here  where  all  things  earthly  end, 
And  I  lay  my  weary  head 
In  the  only  painless  bed. 

Weep  not ;  my  Redeemer  lives ; 

Heavenward  springing  from  the  dust, 
Clear-eyed  Hope  her  comfort  gives ; 

Faith,  Heaven's  champion,  bids  us  trust. 
Love  eternal  whispers  nigh, 
"  Child  of  God,  fear  not  to  die  !  " 

From  the  German  of  E.  M.  Aendt. 

^EAR  Christian  friends,  I  am  come  this 
morning  to  preach  Mr.  Wood's  funeral 
sermon,  and  I  shall  at  the  same  time 
preach  my  own  also  ;  for  I  expect  that  I  shall  very- 
soon  be  laid  beside  my  predecessor,  who  is  rest- 
ing in  yonder  new  made  grave." 

Such  was  the  startling  address  with  which  a 
young  missionary  commenced  his  labors  at  St. 
Ann's  Bay,  on  the  north  side  of  Jamaica,  in  the 
year  1835.  It  had  been  a  year  of  great  mortality  in 
the  island.  The  yellow  fever  had  extended  its 
frightful  ravages  far  and  wide  among  the  people, 
and  already,  within  three  months,  the  grave  had 
closed  over  four  missionary  laborers,  swept  away 


460         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

in  the  prime  of  their  usefulness.  Others  mourned 
over  the  sudden  removal  of  partners  and  children, 
fallen  before  the  march  of  the  fell  disease  which 
had  carried  death  and  sorrow  into  many  a  happy 
home. 

Mr.  Wood  was  the  last  of  the  four  missionaries 
who  in  rapid  succession  had  sunk  into  the  grave, 
leaving  large  congregations  and  Churches  bereft 
of  pastoral  care  and  the  ministry  of  the  word  of 
life.  A  man  of  great  muscular  energy,  and  full 
of  life  and  vigorous  health,  he  had  succumbed  in 
a  few  days  to  the  power  of  the  fever.  His  sudden 
removal  was  greatly  mourned  by  a  loving  people, 
for  whom  he  had  suffered  virulent  persecution  and 
labored  with  self-sacrificing  zeal.  But  chiefly  is 
he  lamented  by  the  youthful  widow,  who  only  a 
few  weeks  before  had  rejoiced  to  become  his  bride, 
and  accompany  him  across  the  broad  Atlantic,  to 
share  his  hallowed  toil  among  the  children  of 
oppression  in  the  isles  of  the  west. 

The  removal  of  so  many  missionaries  to  their 
reward  in  so  brief  a  period  rendered  it  a  difficult 
task  for  those  whose  province  it  was  to  fill  up  the 
vacancies  occasioned  by  their  death,  and  afford  to 
the  bereaved  congregations  even  a  partial  supply 
of  ministerial  labor.  But  the  best  arrangements 
the  case  admitted  of  were  made  until  further  help 
could  be  obtained  from  England ;  and  Mr.  Wal- 
ters was  appointed  to  remove  from  Spanish  Town  to 
St.  Ann's  Bay,  to  supply  the  place  of  the  lamented 
Mr.  Wood.  He  was  a  young  man  of  slender, 
delicate  frame,  and  highly  nervous  temperament, 


The  Funeral  Sermon.  461 

and  had  been  a  little  more  than  four  years  labor- 
ing among  the  Churches  of  Jamaica.  Of  his  piety 
and  devotedness  to  his  work  his  brethren  had 
justly  formed  a  high  estimate.  It  was  not,  there- 
fore, without  surprise  that  they  heard  him  beg  to 
be  excused  from  taking  the  appointment  that  had 
been  arranged  for  him,  and  earnestly  request  that, 
if  practicable,  he  might  be  allowed  to  go  else- 
where, and  some  other  person  be  sent  to  fill  the 
vacancy  at  St.  Ann's  Bay.  He  would  not  refuse 
to  go  if  his  brethren  thought  it  right  to  persist  in 
carrying  their  arrangements  into  effect ;  but  he  en- 
treated that  they  would  modify  their  plans,  as  he 
felt  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  that  particular 
appointment.  Being  pressed  to  state  the  ground 
of  his  objection  more  particularly,  after  some  hesi- 
tation he  said  that,  though  he  could  not  account 
for  it,  he  had  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind  that 
if  sent  to  St.  Ann's  Bay  he  would  die  there  ;  and 
he  fully  believed  that  if  he  went  as  they  had  ap- 
pointed him,  in  two  or  three  weeks  he  would  be 
lying  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Wood. 

Regarding  this  feeling  merely  as  the  effect  of 
nervous  sensibility  wrought  upon  by  the  painful 
events  which  had  been  transpiring  for  several 
months,  the  assembled  ministers  thought  it  better 
on  the  whole  not  to  attach  too  much  importance 
to  what  they  considered  a  groundless  impression. 
Moreover,  they  found  it  exceedingly  difficult  to 
provide  in  any  other  way  for  the  necessities  of 
the  case,  and  therefore  decided  to  abide  by  what 
they  had  proposed.     Mr.  Walters  without  further 


462         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

remonstrance  submitted  and  consented  to  go,  not 
concealing  the  impression  which  still  remained, 
that  he  was  going  to  St.  Ann's  Bay  not  to  labor, 
but  to  die. 

The  next  Sabbath  finds  the  young  missionary  at 
his  appointed  scene  of  labor.  Several  years  have 
elapsed  since  the  sanctuary  here  was  destroyed 
by  violent  and  unreasonable  men,  who  had  com- 
bined together  to  drive  the  Christian  missionary 
from  the  land,  and  deprive  the  enslaved  children 
of  Africa  of  the  religious  teaching  which  was  their 
only  solace  and  comfort  under  the  multiplied  evils 
and  wrongs  of  their  degraded  condition.  As  yet 
the  means  have  not  been  obtained  to  restore  the 
sanctuary  which  sacrilegious  hands  have  demol- 
ished and  laid  waste.  But  the  hymn  of  praise  and 
the  voice  of  prayer,  and  the  joyful  sound  of  a 
preached  Gospel,  after  many  months  of  enforced 
silence  are  again  heard,  and  crowds  assemble  Sab- 
bath after  Sabbath  to  listen  to  the  truth  by  which 
not  a  few  of  them  have  been  made  wise  unto  salva- 
tion. There  lie  the  ruins  of  the  house  of  prayer 
scattered  on  the  ground,  bearing  witness  to  the 
savage  violence  which  for  a  while  reigned 
triumphant,  setting  all  law  and  authority  at 
defiance. 

Hard  by  is  the  burial-ground  connected  with  the 
demolished  chapel,  where  many  a  saint  sleeps  in 
hope  of  a  joyful  resurrection.  Here,  among  the 
graves,  and  overshadowed  by  the  wide-spreading 
plume-like  leaves  of  the  luxuriant  cocoa-nut  trees, 
may  be  seen   a   large  white  canvas  tent,   which 


The  Funeral  Sermon.  463 

serves  to  screen  a  portion  of  the  congregation  from 
the  scorching  rays  of  the  tropical  sun,  and  the 
heavy  showers  of  rain  which  occasionally  fall  while 
they  assemble  in  this  resting-place  of  the  departed 
to  join  in  hallowed  services  and  listen  to  the  word 
of  life.  At  a  little  distance  from  the  tent  there  is 
to  be  seen  a  fresh  mound  of  earth  that  marks  the 
spot  underneath  which  lie  the  earthly  remains  of 
the  faithful  missionary,  who  passed  only  a  few  days 
ago  within  the  vail,  resting  in  hope  of  a  glorious 
restirrection. 

When  the  stranger  who  has  come  to  fill  the  place 
of  their  lamented  pastor  arrives  upon  the  spot  the 
tent  is  filled,  and  there  is  a  crowd  all  around. 
All  are  arrayed  in  such  mourning  as  they  have 
been  able  to  obtain,  to  testify  respect  for  their 
departed  minister ;  some  standing,  others  sitting 
upon  stools  and  chairs  they  have'  brought  with 
them  for  the  purpose.  The  morning  is  bright  and 
beautiful,  and  the  gentle  sea-breeze  fills  the  air 
with  delicious  coolness.  The  young  missionary, 
as  he  steps  to  the  place  assigned  to  him  near  the 
opening  of  the  tent  where  the  books  are  placed 
upon  the  table,  casts  his  eyes  around,  and  regards 
it  as  the  most  interesting  scene  he  has  ever  looked 
upon,  notwithstanding  the  gloomy  presentiment 
which  has  preoccupied  his  mind.  As  he  surveys 
the  multitude,  after  rising  from  his  knees,  he  finds 
that  all  eyes  are  directed  toward  the  new  minister, 
the  observed  of  all  observers.  They  look  upon 
the  person  of  a  stranger  whom  few  of  them  have 
ever  seen  before    but    it  is  with  a  loving  gaze. 


464        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

That  he  is  a  minister  of  Christ,  come  to  preach  to 
them  the  great  salvation,  is  sufficient  to  commend 
him  to  a  warm  place  in  their  hearts.  His  face 
and  figure  are  exceedingly  juvenile,  far  below  his 
years.  No  trace  of  hirsute  growth  appears,  and 
the  features  are  thin  and  pallid,  as  if  emaciated  by 
wasting  fever.  It  is,  however,  only  the  aspect 
which  his  countenance  ordinarily  wears,  though 
it  serves  to  increase  the  startling  effect  of  the 
preacher's  first  address  to  the  mourning  people 
around  him :  "  Dear  Christian  friends,  I  am 
come  this  morning  to  preach  Mr.  Wood's  funeral 
sermon,  and  I  shall  at  the  same  time  preach  my 
own  also." 

Strange  feelings  rushed  through  many  hearts  as 
they  gazed  upon  that  face,  so  different  in  its  pale- 
ness and  emaciation  from  the  full,  florid  coun- 
tenance of  the  lamented  one  now  slumbering  close 
at  hand  in  the  silent  grave.  They  wondered  at 
the  words  of  dark  meaning  that  fell  from  those 
lips  from  which  they  were  hoping  to  hear  many 
times  the  enunciation  of  soul-quickening,  truths 
that  had  been  to  many  of  them,  in  the  midst  of 
persecution  and  danger,  life  from  the  dead.  But 
the  service  goes  on.  After  the  morning  prayers 
have  been  read  comes  the  hymn,  the  first  stanza 
of  which  wakes  up  a  world  of  mournful  and  glo- 
rious thoughts : 

"  Hark !  a  voice  divides  the  sky  ; 
Happy  are  the  faithful  dead  !  " 

How  these  words  thrill  like  a  trumpet  note  through 
the  souls  of  the  hearers,   lifting  them  at   once  to 


The  Funeral  Sermon.  465 

that  upper  world  where  the  ascended  one  has 
already  united  with  the  multitude  brought 
out  of  great  tribulation,  who  have  washed  their 
robes  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb,  and  are  therefore  before  the  throne  of 
God !  While  they  sing  the  following  lines,  so 
inspiring,  so  full  of  triumphant  joy,  tears  of 
gratitude  roll  down  many  a  cheek  as  they  an- 
ticipate the  hour  when  they  two  shall  enter 
there,  and, 

"Mortals  cry,  '^A  man  is  dead  !' 
Angels  sing,  '  A  child  is  born  ! '  " 

Next  a  prayer  is  offered,  then  a  hymn,  and  after 
that  the  sermon,  founded  upon  Rev.  xiv,  13  :  "I 
heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me.  Write, 
Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from 
henceforth :  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may 
rest  from  their  labors  ;  and  their  works  do  follow 
them."  At  the  close  of  the  sermon  the  preacher 
gives  a  brief  account  of  the  religious  history  of 
the  deceased  minister;  his  conversion,  religious 
character,  and  experience,  and  his  triumphant 
death.  "And  I  too,"  adds  the  speaker,  "am 
come  to  die  among  you,  and  find  my  last  rest- 
ing-place yonder  by  the  side  of  your  beloved 
pastor,  who  has  so  recently  passed  to  our  Fa- 
ther's house  above ;  "  concluding  several  other 
rematKs  upon  the  subject  of  his  own  speedy  re- 
moval to  the  better  land,  with  an  earnest  exhorta- 
tion to  diligence  in  the  Master's  service,  and 
with    the    prayer   that    all,    both    preachers   and 


466         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

hearers,  might  be  found  ready  for  the  coming  of 
the  Lord. 

The  hour  for  the  afternoon  service  finds  the 
young  minister  somewhat  indisposed,  so  that  it  is 
deemed  advisable  for  a  local  preacher  to  occupy 
his  place  in  the  sanctuary.  As  night  comes  on 
severe  pains  across  the  loins  and  a  racking  frontal 
headache,  rendering  it  difficult  to  keep  the  eyes 
open,  betoken  the  insidious  approach  of  the  fever, 
and  warn  the  experienced  nurses,  who  have  already 
spontaneously  gathered  to  take  care  of  the  minis- 
ter, as  they  are  always  wont  to  do  when  sickness 
enters  the  missionary  household,  that  it  is.  not  a 
slight  attack  with  which  the  patient  is  threatened. 
A  medical  practitioner  is  summoned,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  mistaken  ideas  of  medical  practice 
which  prevail,  prejudicial  to  the  safety  of  many  a 
patient,  copious  draughts  of  blood  are  drained 
from  a  frame  already  too  much  debilitated  for  the 
fierce  conflict  with  the  terrible  malady  which  seems 
to  threaten.  Powerful  doses  of  calomel  are  also 
administered,  more  calculated  to  aid  than  to  check 
the  progress  of  the  disease. 

Through  a  restless  night  the  quick  vacillating 
pulse,  the  dry,  hot  skin,  and  a  quenchless  thirst, 
tell  with  what  powerful  grasp  the  fever  has  laid 
hold  upon  the  system.  Blistering,  bleeding,  strong 
medicines  are  all  powerless  to  arrest  its  progress, 
until  about  the  fifth  day,  when  the  skin  begins  to 
exhibit  the  bright  yellow  hue  which  often  proves 
to  be  a  fatal  symptom  and  the  immediate  fore- 
runner of  death.     It  is  this  that  has  procured  for 


The  Funeral  Sermon.  467 

the  particular  type  of  fever,  under  which  the 
patient  is  sinking,  the  designation  of ' '  Yellow  Jack," 
given  to  it  by  the  British  blue-jackets,  a  class 
of  persons  who  have  suffered  fearfully  from  its 
ravages. 

From  the  first  moment  of  its  approach,  the  suf- 
ferer has  declared  that  it  is  a  sickness  unto  death, 
and  resigned  himself  with  patient  faith  to  the 
issue,  which  he  seems  clearly  to  have  seen  before 
him.  All  that  willing  hands  and  loving  hearts  can 
do  to  relieve  his  sufferings,  and  soothe  the  anguish 
of  the  young  wife  who  hangs  over  his  bed  in  deep 
distress,  is  done ;  but  no  favorable  symptom  is  de- 
veloped. Unchecked,  the  dread  disease  goes  on, 
drying  up  the  springs  of  life,  until  it  becomes 
too  manifest  to  all  around  that  the  presentiment, 
so  strongly  felt  and  uttered,  is  about  to  be  ful- 
filled. It  has  not  been  the  offspring  of  fear, 
for  there  is  none  of  the  fear  which  hath  torment ; 
no  fear  of  dying  marks  that  death-bed.  It  is  not 
fear,  but  heaven-born  joy  and  hope  that  spreads 
brightness  over  that  pallid,  sunken  counte- 
nance. There  is  no  fear,  but  the  gladness  of  a 
triumphant  faith  in  the  words  that  issue  from 
those  parched  and  fevered  lips,  while  the  hands 
are  lifted  up  toward  heaven  :  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth ;  and  I  know  and  feel  that  He 
hath  loved  me  and  given  himself  for  me."  Nor 
is  there  any  sign  of  fear  in  the  tender,  affection- 
ate tones  in  which  he  commends  the  loved  wife 
of  his  youth,  the  wife  of  a  few  months  only,  and 

the  unborn  pledge  of  their  wedded  love,  to  the 
30 


468         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

ever-gracious  One  who  has  said,  "  A  father  of  the 
fatherless,  and  a  judge  of  the  widows  is  God  in  his 
holy  habitation."  He  has  felt  from  the  beginning 
that  he  came  there  to  die  ;  but,  like  the  great 
apostle,  he  feels,  "  For  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and 
to  die  is  gain."  And  now  that  the  dread  king 
of  terrors  is  approaching,  in  fearless  faith  and 
peaceful,  joyous  hope  he  rests  his  soul  upon  the 
Rock  of  Ages,  and  awaits  the  moment  when 
his  ransomed  spirit,  purified*  from  all  defilement, 
shall  pass  through  death  triumphant  home  to 
God. 

More  and  more  the  heart  of  the  young  wife 
sinks  in  sorrow  as  the  last  fatal  symptoms  be- 
come unmistakably  apparent,  and  the  dreadful 
black  vomit  heralds  the  approach  of  death, 
until  the  sixth  day,  when  the  last  faint  accents, 
"  Jesus  my  life !  Jesus  is  precious !  "  pass  the 
fever -blistered  lips,  leaving  them  closely  sealed 
in  death,  and  the  glorified  spirit  enters  the  joy  of 
its  Lord. 

Only  one  short  week  has  passed  since  the 
young  missionary  stood  before  that  congregation 
for  the  first  and  last  time,  and  gave  utterance 
to  the  startling  announcement  that  he  came 
among  them  to  die.  And  lo  !  the  presentiment 
has  been  fulfilled !  On  the  Sabbath  evening, 
amid  the  tears  of  weeping  hundreds,  the  grave 
opens  to  receive  the  fever  victim.  Two  fresh 
mounds  instead  of  one  mark  the  missionaries' 
burial-place  in  the  humble  cemetery ;  and  the 
canvas  tent,  and  the  congregation  that  assemble 


The  Funeral  Sermon.  469 

there,  are  again  without  a  pastor.  And  two 
young  widows,  with  suddenly  blighted  hopes,  are 
left  to  feel  how  transitory  and  uncertain  are  even 
the  purest  and  holiest  joys  associated  with  this 
dark  vale  of  tears. 

"  There  all  the  ship's  company  meet, 

Who  sail'd  with  the  Saviour  beneath ; 
With  shouting  each  other  they  greet, 

And  triumph  o'er  sorrow  and  death. 
The  voyage  of  life's  at  an  end  ; 

The  mortal  affliction  is  past ; 
The  age  that  in  heaven  they  spend. 

For  ever  and  ever  shall  last." 


470         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XXIV. 

A  Mother's  Dream. 

A  mother's  love,  how  sweet  the  name  I 

What  is  a  mother's  love? 
A  noble,  pure,  and  tender  flame. 

Enkindled  from  above 
To  bless  a  heart  of  earthly  mold ; 
The  warmest  love  that  can  grow  cold ; 

This  is  a  mother's  love. — Montgomekt. 

TRANGE  and  inexplicable  are  the  fancies 
that  frequently  occupy  the  mind  when  all 
the  outward  senses  are  locked  up  in  sleep  ! 
Who  can  tell  whence  they  come,  or  how  they  are 
caused  ?  It  would  be  idle  and  foolish  to  attach 
undue  importance  to  all  the  vain  imaginations 
which  crowd  our  sleeping  hours.  But  it  may  not 
be  denied,  with  the  Bible  in  our  hands,  that  God 
has  sometimes  seen  it  good  to  communicate  with 
his  creatures  through  the  medium  of  dreams  and 
visions  of  the  night.  (Job  xxxiii.) 

Apart  from  the  volume  of  inspiration  many  well- 
authenticated  facts  show  that  the  wise  and  right- 
eous Governor  of  the  universe  still  takes  up  the 
dreams  of  men  into  the  arrangement  of  his  prov- 
idence, and  uses  them  for  the  accomplishment  of 
his  own  purposes.  Other  dreams,  in  which  it 
would  be  difficult  to  discover  any  thing  of  providen- 
tial design,  become  remarkable  from  the  manner 


A  Mother's  Dream.  471 

in  which  they  are  fulfilled.  It  is  not,  however, 
my  purpose  to  write  a  dissertation  on  dreams,  but 
merely  to  refer  to  one  which  at  the  time  produced 
a  powerful  impression,  and  was,  after  the  lapse  of 
many  years,  remarkably  verified. 

On  my  first  missionary  voyage  to  the  isles  of  the 
west,  upward  of  forty  years  ago,  I  was  associated 
with  C.  W.,  a  young  man  of  about  the  same  age 
as  myself,  who  had  been  recommended  and  ac- 
cepted for  the  mission  work  from  one  of  the 
Methodist  districts  in  the  west  of  England.  He 
was  of  a  mild,  quiet  disposition,  and  retiring  in  his 
habits.  He  had  seen  but  little  of  the  world,  even 
less  than  most  young  men  of  his  age,  being  re- 
strained by  a  fond,  doting  mother,  to  whom  he  was 
warmly  attached,  from  every  thing  like  free  inter- 
course with  other  boys,  and  from  sharing  their 
sports  and  recreations.  Carefully  trained  in  the 
habit  of  attending  upon  the  ordinances  of  religion 
in  her  own  company,  it  was  the  great  joy  of  the 
mother's  life  to  see  the  boy  she  loved  so  devotedly 
yield  himself  up  to  the  gracious  influences  and 
drawings  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  openly  conse- 
crate his  youthful  affections  and  his  life  to  his 
Saviour.  The  love  of  Christ  had  smoothed  and 
brightened  her  owij  lowly  path  for  many  years, 
through  the  cares  and  anxieties  of  domestic  trial 
and  the  sorrow  and  loneliness  of  early  widowhood. 
Deeply  she  felt  her  obligations  to  the  Lord,  and 
that  no  sacrifice  she  could  make  for  him  could  be 
too  great.  But  it  became  the  great  sorrow  of  her 
life  when,  after  a  severe  and  protracted   struggle 


4/2         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

between  maternal  love  and  duty  to  Christ  and  his 
cause,  she  was  called  upon  to  give  up  the  cherished 
object  of  her  heart's  warmest  affection,  to  go 
wherever  the  Head  of  the  Church  might  assign  to 
him  a  sphere  of  labor  in  the  mission  field,  and 
bid  him  adieu,  to  behold  his  face  no  more  on 
earth.  She  knew  something  of  the  deep  anguish 
the  venerable  patriarch  experienced  when  the 
strange  command  from  heaven  fell  upon  his  ear : 
"  Take  now  thy  son,  thine  only  son  Isaac,  whom 
thou  lovest,  and  get  thee  into  the  land  of  Moriah ; 
and  offer  him  there  for  a  burnt  offering  upon  one 
of  the  mountains  which  I  will  tell  thee  of."  It 
was  not  more  distressing  to  Abraham  thus  to  part 
with  his  Isaac,  than  it  was  to  the  widowed  mother 
to  lay  her  only  child  upon  the  missionary  altar. 

The  bitter  heart-trial  had  been  endured.  The 
last  sad  farewell  had  been  pronounced  with  many 
tears,  and  the  son  of  the  widow  was  on  his  way  to 
the  isles  of  the  west.  Thither  he  was  going,  not 
in  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  but  to  assist  in  filling  up 
vacancies  which  the  harassings  of  unrelenting 
persecutors,  or  the  ravages  of  yellow  fever,  had 
created  among  the  missionary  laborers,  who  were 
there  preaching  the  ever-blessed  Gospel  to  the 
colored  free  population  and  the  downtrodden 
slaves. 

In  the  midst  of  the  wide  Atlantic  the  progress 
of  the  ship  is  arrested  by  protracted  calms.  In 
vain  the  broad  sails  are  spread  to  catch  the  breeze  ; 
there  is  not  a  breath  of  air.  An  almost  vertical 
sun  pours  down  his  fervent  rays  upon  the  vessel, 


A  Mother  s  Dream.  473 

melting  the  pitch  that  fills  up  the  seams  of  her 
decks.  Not  a  ripple  is  seen  upon  the  water,  which 
glistens  smooth  and  shining  like  molten  silver,  and 
stretching  to  the  distant  horizon  all  around.  The 
vessel  rises  and  falls  with  a  never-ending  swell ; 
the  canvas  flaps  to  and  fro  with  weary,  monotonous 
sound,  and  it  seems  as  if  all  nature  had  gone  to 
sleep.  A  week  passes  away,  and  another  week 
begins  and  ends,  and  there  we  lie,  rolling  and  rock- 
ing in  the  same  spot.  The  ships  that  we  have 
scanned  through  our  glasses  many  miles  distant, 
day  after  day,  still  maintain  the  same  relative 
position,  immovable  like  ourselves,  for  lack  of  the 
favoring  breeze  to  help  them "  on  their  course. 
We  have  watched  the  gambols  of  shoals  of  por- 
poises around  the  ship.  We  have  seen  the  whales 
sporting  in  the  distance  ;  sometimes  rolling  their 
huge  carcases  half  way  out  of  the  water.  Day 
after  day  our  captain,  dexterous  in  the  use  of  the 
groins,  has  stood  in  the  chains  and  made  war  upon 
the  vast  quantities  of  "  bonito  "  that  sported  about 
the  vessel,  hoisting  one  large  fish  after  another  to 
the  deck,  until  an  abundant  supply  has  been  ob- 
tained for  the  ship's  use  for  many  days.  The 
hungry  shark  has  prowled  around  us,  until,  yield- 
ing at  length  to  the  temptation,  he  has  greedily 
swallowed  the  large  piece  of  pork  thrown  over- 
board to  entrap  him.  But  with  it  he  has  swallowed 
the  treacherous  hook,  pointed  and  barbed,  which, 
taking  firm  hold  of  his  vitals,  has  enabled  us  to 
haul  him  on  deck  and  finish  him  off  there,  taking 
care  to  keep   from   the  powerful   lashings  of  his 


474        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

broad  tail  in  the  death  agony.  The  Portuguese 
man-of-war,  floating  upon  the  surface  of  the  calm 
sea,  has  been  drawn  up  in  a  bucket,  and  subjected 
to  minute  inspection.  Several  mornings  the  sea 
has  been  found  for  miles  covered  in  all  directions 
with  turtle,  calmly  sleeping  upon  the  untroubled 
ocean.  The  ship's  boats  have  been  got  out,  and, 
with  muffled  oars,  the  sleepers  have  been  noise- 
lessly approached,  struck  with  the  barbed  groins, 
and  hoisted  into  the  boats.  In  many  cases,  how- 
ever, they  took  alarm,  and  went  down  for  shelter 
in  the  unfathomable  deep  before  we  could  come 
near  to  capture  them.  But  the  spoils  of  our 
turtle-hunting  have  been  sufficient  (between 
thirty  and  forty  having  been  secured)  to  furnish 
an  ample  supply  of  turtle  steaks  and  turtle  soup, 
to  vary  and  enrich  our  ample  daily  fare  until  the 
ship  shall  reach  the  end  of  her  voyage. 

Still  the  calm  continues.  There  is  among  the 
passengers,  amounting  to  twenty-nine  in  all,  a 
youthful  medico,  going  to  seek  practice  in  Jamaica. 
There  is  also  a  nephew  of  Sir  Andrew  A.,  famous 
for  his  efforts  in  Parliament  concerning  the  Sab- 
bath, and  several  other  young  men  bound  to  the 
west  to  try  chances  with  the  yellow-fever  and  a 
planter's  life.  Yielding  to  the  solicitations  of  his 
more  youthful  passengers,  the  good-natured  cap- 
tain suffers  those  who  are  competent  to  go  over- 
board, and  have  a  swim  about  the  bows  of  the  ship  ; 
lowering  a  boat,  and  suspending  ropes  over  the 
sides  and  the  bowsprit  to  insure  the  safety  of  the 
adventurers.     To  sport  in  the  calm,  placid  sea  for 


A  Mother^ s  Dream.  475 

an  hour  affords  enjoyment  to  the  swimmers  for 
several  days,  until  a  narrow  escape  from  drowning 
on  the  part  of  the  young  medical  gentleman  in- 
duces the  captain  to  put  a  veto  upon  this  kind  of 
amusement.  Being  but  an  indifferent  swimmer, 
he  had  failed,  when  nearly  exhausted,  to  catch 
hold  of  the  rope  hanging  from  the  end  of  the  bow- 
sprit, when  a  young  Baptist  missionary,  who,  as 
might  be  expected,  was  more  at  home  in  the  water 
than  his  companions,  swam  to  the  rescue,  and 
saved  him  as  he  was  sinking. 

In  these  aquatic  exercises  the  young  missionary, 
C.  W.,  took  no  part.  When  urged  to  do  so  he 
pleaded  that  he  had  never  learned  to  swim.  He 
had  never  in  his  life  ventured  into  the  water  as 
other  youths  were  accustomed  to  do,  refraining 
from  this  in  deference  to  his  mother's  wishes. 
Before  the  birth  of  her  son  she  had  a  dream  con- 
cerning him,  in  which  he  came  to  his  death  by 
drowning.  This  dream  had  so  wrought  upon  her 
that,  all  through  his  childhood  and  youth,  she  had 
laid  her  commands  upon  him  to  abstain  from  tak- 
ing part  in  any  of  those  amusements  of  boyhood, 
bathing,  skating,  etc.,  by  which  the  fulfillment  of 
her  dream  might  possibly  be  brought  about.  In 
obedience  to  the  wishes  of  his  much-loved  moth- 
er, he  had  never  in  his  life  ventured  into  or  upon 
the  water  until  the  present  voyage.  He  therefore 
contented  himself  with  looking  from  the  deck 
upon  his  fellow-voyagers  as  they  sported  in  the 
calm  deep  waters,  and  swam  to  and  fro  about  the 
bows  of  the  vessels. 


476        Romance  Without  Fiction, 

When  seven  weeks  have  sped,  the  Blue  Mount- 
ains of  Jamaica  are  seen  lifting  their  summits  to 
the  clouds.  The  strong  trade-wind  fills  the  sails 
and  urges  on  the  ship,  till,  before  the  mid-day  on 
a  July  Sabbath,  Port  Royal  Point  is  rounded,  and 
the  loud  rattle  of  the  chain-cable,  as  the  anchor 
descends,  proclaims  that  the  wearisome  voyage  is 
at  an  end. 

The  three  missionaries  enter  upon  their  work. 
The  time  of  year  is  not,  however,  the  most  favor- 
able for  doing  so ;  and,  before  two  weeks  have 
elapsed,  one  of  them,  (the  Baptist,)  cut  down  by 
yellow  fever,  sleeps  in  the  dust.  C.  W.,  like  my- 
self, has  recovered  from  a  similar  attack  to  that 
which  has  borne  our  fellow-traveler  to  the  grave  ; 
but  the  fell  disease  has,  for  a  season,  greatly  pros- 
trated all  our  energies.  For  three  years  and  more 
my  fellow-voyager  has  labored  successfully  in  his 
hallowed  vocation.  The  period  of  his  probation  is 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  he  is  now  looking,  on  the 
arrival  of  every  mail,  for  the  official  letter  that  is 
to  sanction  his  return  to  England  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  to  himself  as  partner  for  life  the  being 
dearer  to  him  than  all  others  upon  earth,  with 
whom  he  had  exchanged  pledges  of  betrothal 
before  he  gave  himself  to  missionary  work.  Re- 
moved from  the  busy  city,  he,  with  another,  a 
youthful  colleague,  occupies  a  station  in  the  coun- 
try near  the  banks  of  the  Rio  Minto,  commonly 
called  Dry  River.  This  name  is  given  to  it  because 
during  the  dry  season  its  waters  are  nearly,  or  al- 
together,   dried    up ;    the    broad,    deep    channel, 


A  Mother's  Dream.  477 

overspread  with  vast  masses  of  rock,  bearing 
witness  to  the  velocity  and  power  of  the  torrent 
which  fills  it  during  the  rainy  seasons  of  the 
tropics. 

The  two  young  missionaries  share  the  same 
humble  dwelling,  as  they  divide  between  them  the 
pastoral  charge,  with  its  large  responsibilities, 
which  frequent  deaths  in  the  missionary  ranks 
have  caused,  somewhat  prematurely,  to  devolve 
upon  them.  The  younger  of  the  two,  who  has 
only  recently  entered  upon  his  work,  is  a  young 
man  of  lively  temperament,  gay  and  sanguine; 
and  he  has  succeeded  in  laughing  and  rallying  his 
graver  brother  out  of  what  he  calls  his  "  supersti- 
tious fear  of  the  water."  Both  of  them  have,  for 
some  weeks  past,  been  in  the  habit  of  repairing,  on 
Saturday  afternoon,  to  the  neighboring  river  for 
the  refreshment  of  a  bath  ;  the  water  at  the  time 
running  very  low,  and  the  stream  being  so  small 
and  shallow  that  an  infant  might  bathe  in  it  almost 
anywhere  with  perfect  safety. 

Frequent  indulgence  in  this  refreshing  exercise 
has  completely  dispelled  the  apprehensions  which, 
from  his  childhood,  had  occupied  the  mind  of 
C.  W.,  and  he  finds  great  enjoyment  in  his  weekly 
ablution.  This  has  gone  on  for  several  months, 
when  the  younger  of  the  two  ministers  is  absent 
on  the  Saturday  afternoon,  having  gone  to  supply 
the  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath  in  a  distant  Circuit. 
C.  W.  feels  no  hesitation  in  going  alone  to  the  river 
course  to  take  his  usual  bath;  and  immediately 
after  dinner,  having  informed  the  domestic  whither 


478         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

he  was  going,  that  he  might  be  sent  for  if  his  pres- 
ence at  home  were  required,  he  repairs  to  the 
customary  spot. 

The  afternoon  passes  away,  and  the  young  mis- 
sionary does  not  return.  The  evening  has  sped, 
and  nine  o'clock  has  struck,  and  the  preparations 
for  tea  remain  as  they  had  been  placed  several 
hours  before.  Still  the  absent  one  has  not  made 
his  appearance.  The  servant,  who  has  been  im- 
patiently awaiting  the  arrival  of  her  master, 
becomes  alarmed,  and  goes  to  hold  a  consultation 
with  the  inhabitants  of  several  neighboring  cot- 
tages. They  at  once  share  the  alarm,  for  it  is 
quite  at  variance  with  the  minister's  habits  to  be 
absent  from  home  at  so  late  an  hour.  It  is  sug- 
gested that  he  may  have  called  upon  one  of  the 
neighbors  on  his  return  from  the  river.  But  when 
ten  o'clock  comes  and  he  fails  to  appear,  several 
of  them  resolve  to  set  out  in  search  of  him.  It  is 
bright  moonlight,  but  they  think  it  proper  to 
carry  lanterns  with  them.  By  this  time  the  alarm 
has  spread  extensively  among  the  scattered 
villagers,  and  a  numerous  party  set  out  for  the 
purpose  of  making  inquiry  at  the  several  houses 
on  the  way,  and  inspecting  the  river  course.  No 
satisfactory  tidings  can  be  gained  anywhere  on  the 
way.  At  length  they  reach  the  river,  where  they 
divide  themselves  into  two  parties,  one  to  prose- 
cute the  search  up  and  the  other  down  the  stream. 
Before  they  are  out  of  hearing,  a  loud  shout  from 
the  party  who  have  followed  the  downward  course 
of  the  stream  announces  that  some  discovery  has 


A  Mother  s  Dream.  479 

been  made.  Upon  one  of  the  large  boulders  in 
the  river  bed,  some  object,  distinctly  visible  in  the 
moonlight,  has  met  their  view.  Arriving  at  the 
spot,  they  find  this  to  be  the  clothes  of  the  missing 
one ;  leaving  no  doubt  that  some  accident  or  evil 
has  befallen  him.  The  idea  of  drowning  does  not 
occur  to  them ;  for  it  does  not  seem  possible  that 
any  person  could  meet  such  a  fate  in  the  little  in- 
significant stream  that  runs  murmuring  beside 
them,  dwindled  by  the  prevailing  drought  to  the 
merest  rivulet. 

A  second  shout  from  one  of  the  party  who  has 
advanced  a  few  yards  beyond  his  fellows  soon 
announces  a  further  discovery.  Rushing  to  the 
spot,  they  discover  the  object  of  their  search  lying 
in  a  small  pool,  in  which  the  water  is  barely  deep 
enough  to  cover  the  body.  Life  is  quite  extinct, 
for  the  body  has  been  lying  with  the  head  under 
water  for  some  hours,  and  the  youthful  servant  of 
God  has,  unexpectedly  to  himself  and  all  around 
him,  been  called  away  to  his  eternal  rest.  His 
premature  death  under  such  circumstances,  and 
in  such  a  place,  could  be  accounted  for  only  on 
the  supposition  that  an  apoplectic  seizure  had  sud- 
denly paralyzed  his  energies  as  he  was  bathing  in 
the  little  pool — perhaps  too  early  after  partaking 
of  a  hearty  meal.  Falling  powerless  in  the  water, 
with  his  head  just  submerged  in  the  shallow 
stream,  he  had  been  suffocated,  no  help  being  at 
hand.  Great  is  the  sorrow  of  the  simple-hearted 
people  to  whom  he  ministered  the  word  of  life 
when  they  find  themselves  thus  suddenly  bereaved 


480         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

of  the  young  pastor,  who  had  greatly  endeared 
himself  to  them  by  his  faithful  counsels  and  lov- 
ing, gentle  manners.  This  sorrow  is  greatly  ag- 
gravated when  in  one  short  week  the  intelligence 
comes  to  them  that  the  colleague  of  the  deceased, 
their  other  younger  pastor,  has  followed  his  friend 
and  brother  to  the  spirit-land.  In  the  distant  cir- 
cuit whither  he  had  gone  to  preach,  the  yellow 
fever  had  seized  upon  him  after  leaving  the  pulpit 
on  the  Sabbath  evening.  The  best  medical  aid 
had  been  summoned  ;  but  in  three  short  days,  in 
the  prime  of  vigorous,  youthful  manhood,  this 
promising  servant  of  the  Lord  closed  his  eyes  on 
earthly  scenes  and  passed  within  the  vail.  Thus 
are  the  sorrowing  people  doubly  bereaved,  and 
most  strangely,  yet  truly,  after  the  lapse  of  nearly 
thirty  years,  the  mother's  dream  has  been  fulfilled. 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  481 


XXV. 

The  Old   Sanctuary 

The  man  of  God 
Took  up  the  consecrated  bread,  and  brake, 
And  gave  the  happy  saint.    "  Take  this,"  he  srfd, 
" In  dear  remeuibiance  of  thy  dying  Lord, 
His  body  given  for  thee,  and  in  thy  heart 
Feed  thou  on  him  with  thankfulness."    Then  took 
The  cup.     '-Drink  this,"  he  said,  "and  may  the  blood 
Which  once  for  thee  was  shed,  preserve  thy  soul 
And  body  to  eternal  life."    To  each 
Some  word  of  comfort  spake  he,  as  to  each 
He  gave  the  sacred  symbols.    Unto  all 
That  sanctuary  seemed  the  very  gate  of  heaven. 

Me3.  C.  L.  Eiob. 

JHE  Sabbath  dawns,  but  not  with  the  usual 
brightness  of  the  tropics.  It  is  one  of  those 
mornings,  frequent  enough  in  the  changea- 
ble climates  of  northern  countries,  but  not  often 
seen  among  the  sunny  isles  of  the  Caribbean  Sea, 
The  sky  wears  a  leaden  hue,  and  the  whole  firma- 
ment is  obscured  with  thick  clouds.  The  range 
of  the  Blue  Mountains,  usually  so  bright  and 
beautiful  in  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  is  not  to 
be  seen.  A  thick,  drizzling  rain  is  falling,  the  at- 
mosphere is  chilly,  and  all  is  dark  and  gloomy. 
Every  street  leading  toward  the  harbor  has  be- 
come a  river  course,  through  which  rolls  a  deep, 
rapid  stream  of  muddy  water,  showing  that  the 
rain  is  falling  heavily  in  the  lofty  mountains  which 


482         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

form  the  background  of  the  picture  when  the  city 
of  Kingston  is  surveyed  from  the  harbor,  or  from 
the  sea  outside  of  "  the  palisades  "  by  which  the 
harbor  is  inclosed. 

The  few  persons  to  be  seen  moving  about  are 
closely  wrapped  in  the  thickest  and  warmest  cloth- 
ing they  possess,  for  it  is  one  of  those  mornings 
which  seem  to  paralyze  the  energies  of  the  dark- 
skinned  Creoles,  and  render  them  almost  incapable 
of  any  exertion.  It  is  strange  to  see  so  many 
persons  in  the  streets  in  such  stormy  weather ; 
but  they  are  hastening  to  the  class-meeting,  which 
is  always  held  on  Sunday  morning  at  six  o'clock. 
Some  hundreds  are  thus  accustomed  to  assemble 
with  their  leaders,  that  they  may  speak  to  one  an- 
other concerning  their  experience  in  the  things  of 
God,  and  receive  the  counsel  their  various  states 
demand  to  direct  and  cheer  them  in  their  pilgrim- 
age to  the  skies. 

There  would  not  be  so  many,  but  that  it  is  the 
last  Sabbath  morning  on  which  they  are  to  be 
privileged  with  the  opportunity  of  meeting  to- 
gether in  that  old  sanctuary  toward  which  their 
footsteps  are  tending.  This  has  been  to  not  a 
few  of  them  their  birthplace  for  eternal  life. 
Thither  they  have  for  years  gone  up  in  company 
to  take  sweet  counsel,  and  there  they  have  wor- 
shiped God  and  listened  to  the  words  of  eternal 
life.  The  dense  gloom  of  the  morning  is  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  feelings  of  hundreds  in  that  city, 
for  the  thought  to  them  is  very  mournful  that  the 
dear  old  house,  so  sacred  to  their  thoughts,  is  soon 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  483 

to  be  taken  down.  To  many  it  is  the  dearest  spot 
on  earth,  around  which  cluster  the  most  thrilling 
and  cherished  memories  of  their  lives.  After  this 
day  has  passed  they  will  worship  within  those  hal- 
lowed walls  no  more.  Tears  glisten  in  the  eyes 
of  many  who,  through  the  chilling  rain,  are  trudg- 
ing to  the  much-loved  spot. 

Coke  Chapel  stands  on  the  east  side  of  a  large 
square  which  forms  the  center  of  the  city  of  King- 
ston. The  square  is  several  hundred  yards  in  ex- 
tent either  way,  and  is  adorned  with  some  of  the 
finest  buildings  that  enrich  the  city.  Were  it 
under  better  management  it  might  be  made  both 
pleasant  and  beneficial  to  the  inhabitants.  In  a 
prominent  position,  at  the  corner  of  one  of  the 
principal  streets,  stands  the  building  which  bears 
the  name  of  the  venerated  founder  of  the  Wesleyan 
missions  in  the  West  Indies — Dr.  Coke.  It  is, 
however,  more  frequently  designated  by  the  peo- 
ple "  the  Parade  Chapel,"  the  fine  square  upon 
which  it  looks  being  used  as  the  parade-ground 
for  the  city  militia.  The  old  chapel  is  not  very 
imposing  in  its  appearance,  for  it  is  marked  by  no 
ecclesiastical  peculiarity  to  distinguish  it  as  a  place 
devoted  to  religious  worship.  It  was  originally  the 
mansion  of  a  wealthy  citizen,  but  early  after  the 
commencement  of  the  mission  in  Jamaica  the  good 
doctor,  full  of  zeal  for  Christ  and  for  souls,  ob- 
tained possession  of  it  by  purchase,  not  sparing  to 
give  largely  of  his  own  property,  that  this  house 
might  be  consecrated  to  God  and  the  proclama- 
tion of  his  saving  truth.  It  was  the  first  Methodist 
31 


484        Romance  Without  Fiction, 

sanctuary  devoted  to  God  in  this  land,  Aviiere 
the  Head  of  the  Church  had  a  large  harvest  of 
precious  souls  to  be  gathered  into  his  garner. 
The  house  was  spacious  and  lofty,  the  lower  story 
affording  accommodation  for  the  mission  families, 
while  the  upper  part  was  converted  into  a  com- 
modious chapel. 

For  about  half  a  century  this  house  has  been  in 
use  as  a  Christian  sanctuary,  when  our  story  com- 
mences, and  many  have  been  born  to  glory  here. 
Beneath  the  roof  several  missionary  servants  of 
Christ  have  triumphantly  finished  their  useful 
course  and  passed  within  the  vail.  More  than 
one  has  been  dragged  away  from  hence  to  a  gloomy 
prison  cell,  charged  with  the  crime  of  having 
taught  poor  slaves  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and 
endeavoring  to  lighten  the  hardship  of  their  lot 
by  inspiring  them  with  the  bright  hopes  and  con- 
solations of  the  Gospel.  For  seven  long  years 
the  sanctuary  was  closed  by  the  intolerance  of 
the  municipal  authorities,  who  vainly  sought  to 
extinguish,  in  this  way,  the  spreading  light  of 
Divine  truth,  and  put  a  stop  to  the  work  of  God. 
By  patient  endurance  and  perseverance,  and  a 
firm  reliance  upon  their  Master's  promises,  the 
missionaries  triumphed ;  the  soul-saving  work 
went  on,  and  the  enemies  of  the  truth  were 
bafiled. 

Now  the  time  has  come  when  the  old  sanctuary 
may  no  longer  be  used.  Some  of  the  timbers  have 
yielded  to  the  influence  of  time,  and  exhibit  symp- 
toms of  decay ;  and,  in  spite  of  all  the  care  that 


The  Old  Sancttiary.  485 

has  been  exercised,  those  destructive  insects,  the 
wood  ants,  which  eat  out  the  substance  of  the 
heaviest  timbers,  leaving  only  a  thin  outward  shell 
to  deceive  the  eye,  have  done  their  work  upon  the 
building,  and  it  is  considered  unsafe  that  crowds 
of  people  should  continue  to  assemble  in  a  tene- 
ment so  frail.  Besides  this,  extended  accommo- 
dations is  required,  for  the  work  of  the  Lord  has 
greatly  prospered.  Thousands  have  been  made 
wise  unto  salvation  on  that  spot.  A  large  and 
handsome  chapel  has  been  erected  in  another  part 
of  the  city,  and  a  numerous  congregation  and  so- 
ciety have  been  drafted  off  from  this,  the  parent 
Church  ;  yet  the  old  house  will  scarcely  contain- 
two  thirds  of  the  communicants  who  are  attached 
to  it.  The  necessity  is  urgent ;  but  multitudes 
mourn  over  the  approaching  demolition  of 
their  beloved  house  as  if  it  were  a  grievous 
calamity.  A  better  and  more  commodious  edifice 
may  be  substituted  for  it,  but  no  building  on  earth 
can  ever  be  so  dear  to  them. 

As  the  hour  for  the  forenoon  service  draws  near 
the  rain  ceases,  and  the  place  is  crowded  in  every 
part.  Numbers  have  traveled  all  night  over  the 
mountains  and  through  the  rain,  twenty,  thirty, 
and  some  nearly  forty  miles,  fording  the  mountain 
torrents  and  braving  the  inclemency  of  the  weather, 
that  they  may  be  present  at  the  closing  services 
of  that  dear  old  chapel  and  offer  their  prayer  for 
the  last  time  beneath  that  hallowed  roof.  Many 
hearts  go  out  toward  God  in  earnest  desire ;  for 
though    forms  of  prayer  are   used,  they  are  not 


486         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

uttered  by  mere  formal  worshipers.  It  is  not  prayer 
without  desire,  like  an  altar  without  a  sacrifice,  or 
the  sacrifice  without  the  fire  from  heaven  to  con- 
sume it,  that  is  oiTered  there.  It  is  the  language 
of  devotion ;  the  breathing  out  of  the  soul  to 
God. 

The  preliminary  part  of  the  services  over,  then 
comes  the  sermon  ;  and  many  a  sob  breaks  the 
.  silence  of  that  devotional  hour,  and  streams  of 
tears  roll  down  many  cheeks,  while  the  preacher 
dwells  upon  those  words,  so  expressive  of  the 
heart-feeling  of  all  around  him  :  "  Lord,  I  have 
loved  the  habitation  of  thy  house,  and  the  place 
where  thine  honor  dwelleth."  Psalm  xxvi,  8, 
There  are  hundreds  there  who  feel  as  Jacob  felt  at 
Bethel  when  Jehovah  manifested  himself  in  such 
wondrous  grace  and  condescension :  "  This  is 
none  other  but  the  house  of  God,  and  this  is  the 
gate  of  heaven." 

The  morning  exercise  is  ended,  and  some  of 
the  congregation  depart  to  their  homes.  But  a 
large  number  remain  ;  for  after  a  brief  interval  the 
last  love-feast  is  to  be  held  under  that  roof,  occu- 
pying several  hours  of  the  afternoon.  At  the  ap- 
pointed time  the  same  missionary  who  conducted 
the  forenoon  service  again  ascends  the  pulpit. 
Not  only  is  every  available  foot  of  space  occupied, 
but  hundreds  are  unable  to  gain  admission ;  for 
numbers  who  have  been  drafted  off  to  form  other 
Churches  are  there.  The  spot  is  dear  to  them  all, 
and  the  occasion  is  one  in  which  they  are  pro- 
foundly interested.     Sweet  and  powerful  are  the 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  487 

strains  in  which  that  large  congregation  of  Church- 
members  encourage  each  other  to 

"  Antedate  the  joys  above, 
Celebrate  the  feast  of  love." 

The  presiding  minister  offers  the  preliminary 
prayer;  then  bread  and  water  are  passed  round, 
and  all  eat  and  drink  together  as  members  of  the 
same  family,  the  same  household  of  faith,  and 
the  children  of  the  same  heavenly  Father. 
Born  of  God,  passed  from  death  unto  life,  they  are 
looking  forward  with  hope  and  joy  to  the  period 
when,  within  the  vail,  they  shall  pluck  the  am- 
brosial fruits  and  drink  the  vivifying  streams  of 
that  upper  Paradise,  and  be  happy  together  with 
him  forever  and  ever. 

Thanksgiving  made  for  the  earthly  food  and 
comfort,  and  the  collection  taken  for  the  poor  of 
the  Church,  some  of  them  speak  their  experience 
of  the  things  of  God,  in  accordance  with  ancient 
practice  and  those  scriptural  precepts  which  ad- 
monish Christian  believers  to  exhort  one  another, 
and  make  confession  with  their  lips  unto  salvation, 
declaring  to  those  who  fear  God  what  he  hath 
done  for  their  souls.  It  might  cause  the  skeptic 
to  doubt  the  truth  of  his  own  carnal  reasonings,  it 
might  shame  the  arrogance  and  pride  of  the  anthro- 
pological traducer  of  man's  noble  and  immortal 
nature,  to  witness  the  moral  elevation  which  re- 
ligion has  imparted  to  many  in  that  assembly,  and 
listen  to  their  statements.  Rising  sometimes  into 
strains  of  lofty  and  powerful  eloquence,  these  sable 


488         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

men  and  women  tell  of  what  God  and  religion  have 
done  for  them.  Yet  these  are  represented  by  nar- 
row-souled  bigots  of  fairer  complexion,  too  blind 
to  see  the  broad  line  of  demarcation  which  sepa- 
rates man  in  all  his  varieties  from  the  brute,  as 
nearly  allied  to  the  ape  and  the  gorilla.  Brought 
up  out  of  the  lowest  condition  of  life  by  God's 
blessing  upon  missionary  labor,  they  shine  gems 
of  immortality,  flashing  with  the  light  of  intellect 
and  glowing  with  Christian  graces,  possessing,  and 
manifesting  that  lofty  capacity,  which  of  all  this 
lower  creation  belongs  to  man  alone,  the  power 
to  know,  and  love,  and  enjoy  God. 

The  presiding  minister  first  relates  God's  gra- 
cious dealings  with  himself.  When  a  thoughtless 
youth,  he  was  induced  to  attend  a  Sabbath  even- 
ing service  in  a  Methodist  place  of  worship  in  one 
of  the  midland  counties  of  England.  The  word 
impressed  his  conscience  and  his  heart,  and  he 
was  led  to  seek  and  find  mercy  through  faith  in 
Christ.  He  then  felt  constrained  to  devote  the 
residue  of  his  life  to  the  service  of  the  Lord. 
God  had  providentially  opened  his  way  into  the 
mission  work,  and  in  times  of  persecution  inter- 
posed to  save  him  from  the  violence  of  wicked 
and  unreasonable  men. 

"  Oft  from  the  margin  of  the  grave 
The  Lord  had  lifted  up  his  head  ; 

Present  he  found  Him  near  to  save, 
The  fever  own'd  His  touch  and  fled." 

And  now  the  supreme  desire  of  his  heart  is  to 
spend  and  to  be  spent  for  God,  faithful  to  the 


The  Old  Sanctjmry.  489 

great  work  committed  to  him,  so  that  he  may  fin- 
ish his  course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry  which  he 
has  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

When  he  finishes  many  rise  to  speak ;  but  the 
preference  is  accorded  to  an  old  man,  for  all  sit 
down  at  once  when  they  see  that  Father  Harris  is 
upon  his  feet.  He  is  a  venerable  man.  More 
than  eighty  years  have  bleached  that  snow-white 
head,  and  he  displays  a  fine  African  countenance, 
bearing  traces  of  considerable  intelligence.  In  a 
voice  clear  and  distinct,  though  slightly  tremulous, 
he  tells  that  he  was  born  in  North  America,  and 
took  part  in  the  revolutionary  struggle  on  the  los- 
ing side.  He  then  came  to  Jamaica,  preferring  to 
live  under  the  British  flag.  He  had  heard  about 
Jesus,  and  became  the  subject  of  religious  feelings 
among  the  colored  Baptists  in  America ;  but  it 
was  not  until  Dr.  Coke  visited  Jamaica  in  1789, 
and  there  proclaimed  the  truth,  that  he  clearly 
apprehended  the  way  of  salvation  by  faith  in  Christ 
Jesus.  He  came  to  the  cross  as  a  guilty  sinner, 
and  obtained  pardon  and  the  soul-renewing  power 
by  which  he  was  made  a  child  of  God,  the  Holy 
Spirit  bearing  witness  with  his  spirit  that  he  had 
passed  from  death  unto  life.  "1  was  happy  then," 
says  the  old  saint,  "  and,  though  it  is  fifty  years 
ago,  I  have  been  happy  ever  since  ;  and  I  am 
happy  in  Christ  now,  dear  friends,  and  I  feel  that 
I  shall  soon  be  happy  with  him  forever  in  that 
better  land 

"  Where  all  the  ship's  company  meet, 
Who  sailed  with  the  Saviour  beneath." 


490        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

He  tells  how  gladly  he  stepped  forward  when 
Dr.  Coke  invited  those  to  do  so  who  were  desir- 
ous of  giving  themselves  up  to  God,  and  he  was 
the  second  of  eight  persons  then  enrolled  who 
formed  the  first  Methodist  Society  in  the  land." 
"  It  was  a  little  Church,  minister,"  he  says,  lifting 
his  eyes  to  the  pulpit,  "  and  formed  in  troublous 
times ;  but  " — looking  round  upon  the  vast  num- 
ber of  faces  that  were  turned  toward  him,  and 
waving  his  hand — "  bless  the  Lord !  the  little  one 
has  become  thousands,  and  God  will  make  it 
greater  yet."     He  then  resumed  his  seat. 

.There  is  a  pause,  and  all  eyes  are  directed  to- 
ward an  elderly  woman  seated  near  the  center  of 
the  chapel.  There  are  hundreds  who  would  like 
to  speak,  but  all  seem  instinctively  to  feel  that 
precedence  should  be  given  to  Mother  Wilkinson, 
who,  with  Father  Harris,  forms  the  only  remnant 
of  the  original  Methodist  Society  in  Jamaica  estab- 
lished by  Dr.  Coke  on  his  first  visit  to  the  colony. 

"  Mother  Wilkinson,  the  congregation  waits  for 
you  to  speak."  She  rises  in  response  to  this  call; 
a  venerable,  happy-looking  old  woman,  a  little 
tremulous  with  age,  but  dressed  with  scrupulous 
neatness.  A  broad-brimmed  straw  hat,  with  a 
narrow  black  ribbon  around  it,  surmounts  the 
handkerchief  with  which,  according  to  the  pre- 
vailing custom  of  her  class,  her  head  is  adorned, 
folded  to  the  resemblance  of  a  turban.  She  is  a 
mulatto,  sharing  equally  the  African  and  European 
blood.  But  the  swarthy  countenance,  though 
bearing  marks  of  advanced  age,  is  beautiful  with 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  491 

the  peace  of  God  radiant  in  every  feature.  Her 
tale  is  simple  but  heart-thrilling,  and  tears  drop 
from  many  eyes  as  she  relates  her  history  of  the 
past.  She  had  heard  of  God  as  the  Maker  of  the 
heavens  and  the  earth,  and  greatly  she  wondered 
where  and  what  he  was,  and  how  she  could  get  to 
know  more  about  him.  None  had  taught  her, 
none  cared  to  teach  her,  the  difference  between 
right  and  wrong,  and  what  was  good  and  what 
evil.  She  had  not  been  taught  to  read,  and  her 
mind  was  a  blank.  But  as  she  folded  her  children 
to  her  bosom,  she  often  felt  her  heart  strangely 
moved  by  earnest  desires  to  know  something 
about  God.  When  Dr.  Coke  came  she  was  told 
that  a  strange  gentleman  was  going  to  talk  to  the 
people  about  religion,  and  she  took  one  child  by 
the  hand  and  another  at  her  breast,  and  went  and 
listened  to  that  first  sermon.  She  did  not  under- 
stand much  that  was  said,  for  she  was  very  igno- 
rant ;  but  her  heart  melted,  and  her  eyes  shed 
abundant  tears.  She  felt  that  she  was  a  miserable 
sinner,  and  she  went  home  and  prayed  to  God,  as 
the  minister  had  directed  them  to  do. '  The  next 
evening  she  went  again,  and,  as  the  minister  was 
speaking  about  Christ  loving  sinners  and  dying  to 
save  them,  she  felt  that  God  had  pardoned  her, 
and  that  her  soul  was  unspeakably  happy,  as  it 
never  had  been  before.  When  the  minister  spoke 
of  forming  a  Society,  and  invited  those  who  were 
determined  to  live  to  God  and  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come,  she  went  forward  and  gave  in 
her  name.     For  more  than  fifty  years  the  Lord 


492         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

had  kept  her  by  his  grace,  and  she  was  looking 
soon  to  join  the  friends  who  had  gone  before  and 
arrived  safe  at  home.     Referring  to  the  persecu- 
tions of  past  years,  she  speaks  of  "  the  seven  years* 
famine  of  the  word,"  as  she  expresses  it,  when  the 
city  magistrates  shut  up  the  chapel  and  sent  the 
ministers  to  prison,  setting  the  constables  to  watch 
that  there  should  be  no  singing  and  prayer  in  any 
of  the  houses  of  those  who  belonged  to  the  Soci- 
ety.    She  then  goes  on  to  describe  with  exquisite 
pathos  how,  in  those  dark  days,  many  a  little  social 
gathering  of  praying  souls   took   place   in    inner 
rooms  and  upper  chambers.     Class-meetings  were 
held  after  dark  in  the  church-yard,  where  the  peo- 
ple were  afraid  to  go  at  night,  except  those  who 
went  to  pray  among  the  tombs,  and  in  many  other 
strange  places.     For  seven  years  she  met  the  class 
of  which  she  had  been  made  leader  in  the  open 
street.     At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  she  walked 
through  an  appointed  street — changed  from  week 
to  week — and  there,  at  short  distances  apart,  she 
would  find  her  members,  sometimes  two  together, 
sometimes  singly,  so  as  not  to  attract  malignant 
observation.       There    she    would   hold    Christian 
converse  with  them,  and  give  them  such  counsel 
and  encouragement  as  they  required.     When  the 
chapel  was  re- opened  at  the  end  of  seven  years, 
her   class  had  grown,  in  spite  of  opposition,  to 
three  times  its  former  number,  and  the  members 
of  Society  had  increased,  so  that  the  whole   of 
them  could  not  get  into  the  chapel  when  a  Society 
meeting  was  held. 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  493 

The  next  that  rises  is  a  young  man  of  fair  com- 
plexion, not  to  be  distinguished  from  a  white  man, 
except  by  an  eye  practised  in  observing  the  sev- 
eral gradations  and  distinctions  of  color.     He  is 
of  the  class  ranking  next  to  those  who  are  "  white 
by  law,"  having  only  a  sixteenth  portion  of  African 
blood  in   his  veins.     His  dress,  appearance,  and 
manners  are  those  which  pertain  to  polished  soci- 
ety.    He  is  a  member  of  the  Colonial  Legislature, 
well  educated,  and  bearing  the  reputation  of  being 
one  of  the  most  finished  gentlemen  in  the  land, 
and  of  a  most  generous  and  obliging  disposition. 
He  speaks  of  a  godly  mother,  now  slumbering  in 
the  dust,  who  was  one  of  the  excellent  of  the  earth, 
and,  until  she  was  removed  to  heaven  in  the  prime 
of  life,  a  pattern  of  all  Christian  excellence.     He 
tells   how  she    taught  him    to   bow  the   knee   in 
prayer,   and    administered  those    loving   counsels 
which  tended  to  check  the  frivolities  of  thought- 
less youth  ;  and  how  she  led  him  habitually  to  the 
house  of  prayer,  where  the  word  of  life  reached 
his  conscience  and  his  heart,  and  was  made  to 
him  the  wisdom  of  God  and  the  power  of  God  to 
salvation.     He  speaks  in  a  shrill  but  not  unpleas- 
ant tone,  and  with  great  freedom  and  power,  in 
well-chosen  words,  which  sufficiently  explain  why 
he  is  so  much  of  a  favorite  as  a  local  preacher. 
Hundreds  of  hearts  are  touched,  and  there  are 
suppressed  sobs  over  that  whole  congregation  as 
he  speaks  of  the  influence  exerted  upon  him  by 
the  counsels  and  prayers  of  that  loving  mother. 
Many  there  knew  her  well,  and  venerated  her  for 


494         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  virtues  that  adorned  her  character,  and  as  one 
of  the  polished  pillars  of  the  Church. 

When  this  speaker  has  resumed  his  seat,  one 
rises  who  has  been  the  chosen  bosom  friend  of 
that  godly  mother,  and  who  rejoices  with  exceed- 
ing joy  that  the  fond  wishes  of  her  heart  concern- 
ing her  much-loved  son  are  fulfilled.  The  speaker 
is  of  queenly  presence,  now  past  the  prime  and 
bloom  of  youthful  womanhood,  but  still  retaining 
a  large  portion  of  the  grace  and  beauty  by  which 
she  was  distinguished  when,  with  her  clear  olive 
complexion,  gazelle-like  eye,  and  faultless  figure, 
she  outshone  the  fairest  beauties  of  the  land.  She 
is  in  every  sense  a  noble  woman,  enriched  and 
adorned  with  all  Christian  virtues  in  an  eminent 
degree.  Like  her  Master,  to  whom  she  has  fully 
devoted  herself,  she  goes  about  doing  good,  con- 
secrating her  time  and  energies  to  his  service. 
Hundreds  have,  through  her  agency,  been  led  into 
the  path  of  eternal  life.  Her  power  in  prayer  is 
great,  and  on  such  occasions  as  the  present  she 
speaks  with  a  lofty  and  commanding  eloquence 
that  rivets  the  attention  of  the  hearers.  She  tells 
how  her  sympathies  were  awakened  toward  the 
Methodists  when  the  missionaries  were  imprisoned 
and  the  chapel  was  closed.  She  knew  of  many 
slave  members  of  the  Society  who  were  subjected 
to  cruel  treatment  by  their  owners  because  they 
persisted  in  going,  whenever  they  could  seize  the 
opportunity,  to  join  in  the  services  of  the  Method- 
ists. This  led  her  to  think  there  must  be  more 
in  the  religion  of  the  persecuted  people  than  she 


The  Old  SaJictiiary.  495 

had  supposed,  and  in  the  midst  of  her  gay  life 
she  was  drawn  powerfully  toward  them.  Invited 
by  one  of  the  class-leaders,  she  attended  several 
of  the  meetings  held  in  secret,  and  her  heart 
bowed  down  under  a  sense  of  her  guiltiness  and 
danger  as  a  sinner  before  God.  She  at  once  re- 
solved to  abandon  the  gayeties  and  frivolities  in 
which  she  was  wasting  her  life,  and  cast  in  her  lot 
with  the  oppressed,  choosing,  like  Moses,  to  suffer 
affliction  with  the  people  of  God  rather  than  to 
enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season.  She  had 
opposition  and  much  ridicule  and  reproach  to  en- 
counter ;  but  she  regarded  none  of  these  things, 
for  her  soul  was  bowed  down  under  the  painful 
sense  of  the  wrath  of  God  abiding  on  her  ;  and  she 
could  care  for  nothing  else,  until  the  Lord  took 
compassion  upon  her,  and  set  her  soul  at  liberty 
by  his  victorious  love.  Then  she  was  too  happy 
to  care  what  any  around  her  might  think  or  say 
about  her  going  mad  for  religion.  To  all  who  re- 
proach and  cast  ridicule  and  scorn  upon  her  she 
would  say,  "  Come  thou  with  us,  and  we  will  do 
thee  good.'  Religion  has  put  her  in  posses- 
sion of  a  happiness  far  above  any  of  the  pleas- 
ures and  enjoyments  of  the  world  in  which  she 
reveled  for  years.  She  only  fancied  that  she 
was  happy  then,  and  only  for  a  few  moments 
at  a  time,  when  mingling  in  the  dance  and 
mixed  up  with  the  gay  and  thoughtless  lovers  of 
pleasure  like  herself,  to  be  cast  down  and  sor- 
rowful when  it  was  over.  But  now  she  is  happy 
day  and  night. 


496         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

'  My  Redeemer  to  know, 
To  feel  his  blood  flow, 
This  is  life  everlasting — '  'tis  heaven  below.'  " 

She  rejoiced  with  great  joy  when  "  the  seven 
years'  night  *'  ended,  and  she  could  go  up  to  the 
Lord's  house,  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  and  join  in 
the  worship  of  the  Lord.  This  has  now  become 
dearer  to  her,  and  the  source  of  deeper  joy,  than 
the  resorts  of  pleasure  ever  were.  To  hear  the 
life-giving  word,  which  had  made  her  wise  unto 
salvation,  and  by  which  her  soul  was  nourished  and 
strengthened  unto  life  eternal,  this  was  happiness 
indeed  !  She  has  lived  to  see  mother,  sisters,  and 
children  brought  into  the  Church,  and  made  par- 
takers of  the  same  glorious  hopes.  She  cannot 
but  mourn  over  the  thought  that  the  hallowed 
place,  where  many  a  blessed  foretaste  of  heaven 
has  been  realized,  will  shortly  be  no  more  ;  but 
she  rejoices  in  the  prospect  of  the  larger  house 
being  erected  which  has  so  long  been  greatly 
needed.  She  rejoices  still  more  in  the  hope,  which 
seems  to  make  her  soul  expand  within  her,  of  the 
incorruptible  "  building  of  God — the  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens." 

The  effect  of  this  thrilling  tale  has  been  very  pow- 
erful. It  has  been  delivered  with  a  simple  grace 
and  eloquence  that  stirred  the  holiest  sympathies 
of  the  listeners,  and  all  glorify  the  grace  of  God  in 
her  which  has  transformed  her,  the  admired 
votary  of  fashion,  into  the  humble  follower  of 
Jesus.  Ministers  and  people  respect  and  honor 
her  as  one  of  the  most  devoted  and  useful  mem- 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  497 

bers  of  the  Church,  abundant  in  labors  and  ready 
for  every  good  work. 

Next  is  heard  the  voice  of  another  female  mem- 
ber of  the  Church.  She  has  risen  with  several 
others;  but  the  presiding  minister  pronounces  her 
name,  and  all  the  others  resume  their  seats.  She 
is  a  pattern  of  neatness  and  simplicity  in  her  ap- 
pearance ;  one  who  has  attained  the  ripeness  of 
middle  age,  and  is  pre-eminently  a  woman  of  meek 
and  quiet  spirit.  Her  complexion  is  that  of  the 
quadroon,  and  her  fine  placid  countenance  is  an 
illustration  of  "  the  beauty  of  holiness ;  "  for  through 
every  feature  beams  "  the  peace  of  God,  which 
passeth  all  understanding."  Her  tale  is  one  of 
pathetic  simplicity;  and  as  she  relates  it  in  a 
quiet  tone  and  with  a  natural  eloquence,  far  more 
impressive  than  the  most  studied  oratory,  many 
hearts  are  moved  to  ascribe  glory  to  Him  who  shows 
such  abundant  mercy  to  sinners.  She  speaks  of 
the  time  when  she  was  a  slave  ;  for  she  was  born  to 
the  inheritance  of  a  British  bondwoman.  But  it 
was  her  good  fortune  to  be  the  property  of  a  mis- 
tress who  possessed,  among  many  excellent  and 
amiable  qualities,  a  kindly  disposition  toward  her 
slaves,  and  she,  the  quadroon  girl,  was  her  favorite 
attendant.  It  was  a  sore  grievance  to  the  kind- 
hearted  and  well-meaning  mistress  when  her 
maid,  unfortunately  in  her  view,  got  among  the 
Methodists,  and  adopted  what  she  thought  to  be 
their  strange  and  erroneous  views  of  religion.  So 
it  was,  and  it  occurred  in  this  way.  It  was  the 
duty  of  the  quadroon  girl  to  follow  her  mistress  to 


498         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  parish  churcli:  but  on  her  way  thither  she 
had  to  pass  the  Parade  chapel,  and  she  heard  the 
congregation  singing.  It  was  very  sweet,  and 
quite  different  from  any  singing  she  had  ever  heard 
before.  She  had  been  told  a  good  deal  about 
these  Methodist  people,  and  she  thought  she 
would  turn  in  and  hear  a  little  for  herself  before 
going  on  to  the  church,  which  was  near  at  hand ; 
and  her  mistress  would  know  nothing  about  it. 
After  the  singing  the  minister  prayed,  and  she  felt 
wrought  upon  as  she  had  never  been  before.  Then 
came  another  hymn,  and  after  that  the  text :  "  Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,"  etc. 
Every  word  of  the  sermon  that  followed  seemed 
to  be  addressed  to  her ;  she  wondered  who  could 
have  told  the  minister  so  much  about  the  poor 
quadroon  girl.  The  church,  her  mistress,  and  all 
else  were  forgotten ;  all  lost  sight  of  in  the  dread- 
ful conviction  that  she  was  a  very  great  sinner, 
and  in  danger  of  being  lost  forever.  After  the 
service  was  finished  she  sat  still,  weeping  bitterly. 
One  of  the  good  old  class-leaders  came  and  asked 
her  why  she  wept.  She  answered,  "  O,  I  am  a  very 
wicked  sinner  !  "  and  the  old  leader  replied,  "  My 
dear,  that  is  very  true,  and  I  thank  God  he  has 
made  you  to  feel  it,  but  Christ  Jesus  came  into 
the  world  to  save  sinners,  and  you  are  one  of  the 
very  persons  he  invites  to  come  to  him  and  be 
saved."  She  then  invited  her  to  the  class-meeting, 
where  she  heard  the  experience  of  others,  and  re- 
ceived the  aid  of  Christian  counsel  and  prayer. 
But  she  went  home  burdened   and  heavy  laden, 


TJie  Old  Sanctuary.  499 

and  weeping  bitterly.  Her  mistress  was  greatly 
displeased  that  the  Methodists  had  spoiled  her 
favorite  slave,  and  she  wondered,  as  she  saw  her 
weeping  and  mourning  all  the  week,  "  what  those 
people  could  have  done  to  Sarah."  The  next 
Sabbath  the  girl  begged  to  be  excused  going  to 
church,  and  asked  permission  to  go  to  the  chapel. 
The  mistress  resisted  her  entreaty  for  avv^hile;  but 
when  she  saw  that  Sarah  wept  more  bitterly,  and 
was  in  very^  great  distress,  she  left  her  to  take  her 
own  course.  The  sermon  was,  she  thought,  all 
addressed  to  her ;  and  she  was  encouraged  to 
hope  that,  great  sinner  as  she  was,  God  would  have 
mercy  upon  her.  The  minister  explained  the 
text,  "  Behold,  what  manner  of  love  the  Father 
hath  bestowed  upon  us,  that  we  should  be  called 
the  sons  of  God."  John  iii,  i.  She  was  still 
much  bowed  down  with  a  sense  of  guilt  and  the 
wickedness  of  her  own  heart.  But  during  the 
class-meeting,  while  the  members  were  earnestly 
pleading  with  God  in  prayer  for  her,  the  love  of 
God  was  shed  abroad  in  her  heart,  and  she  was  made 
exceedingly  happy  ;  for  she  felt  the  inward  wit- 
ness that  she  had  passed  from  death  unto  life 
and  become  a  child  of  God.  The  mistress  won- 
dered still  more  than  before,  when  she  saw  this 
great  change  in  her  slave.  Instead  of  weeping 
and  mourning,  as  she  had  done  all  the  preceding 
week,  the  girl  was  now  happy  and  joyous.  Her 
very  countenance  was  altered  :  God's  peace  and 
love  had  spread  over  it  an  expression  of  cheerful- 
ness it  had  never  worn  before,  and  the  ladv 
32 


500         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

"  could  not  think  what  those  Methodists  had  been 
doing  with  Sarah."  But  she  learned  the  secret 
afterward.  Sarah,  always  her  favorite  among  her 
slaves,  became  dearer  to  her  than  ever ;  and  she 
also  was  deeply  attached  to  the  kind  mistress  who 
had  treated  her  with  so  much  indulgence.  This 
kindness  found  its  reward,  for  it  was  the  quadroon 
slave  that  led  her  to  Christ,  and  taught  her  the  way 
of  salvation  ;  it  was  the  quadroon  slave,  whose 
voice  she  loved  to  hear  in  prayer  at  her  own  bed- 
side, and  in  singing  the  hymns  that  lifted  her  soul 
to  heaven ;  it  was  she  who  brought  her  own  mis- 
sionary minister  to  speak  to  her  beloved  mistress 
of  Jesus  and  heaven  as  she  lay  on  the  bed  of 
sickness  ;  it  was  she  who  sympathized  with  the 
peace  and  triumph  of  that  mistress's  happy  death- 
bed ;  and  when  the  rejoicing  spirft  passed  from 
earth,  she  closed  the  eyes  of  the  dead.  When  all 
was  over,  she  found  that  she  was  no  longer  a  slave. 
The  grateful  mistress  had  bequeathed  to  the  quad- 
roon girl  freedom  from  bondage,  and  something  to 
aid  her  in  her  future  life.  Thus  unexpectedly  she 
had  found  that  "  godliness  is  profitable  for  all 
things,  having  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  and 
of  that  which  is  to  come." 

Another  speaker  carries  back  the  thoughts  of 
the  congregation  to  the  time  when  Mr.  Bradnack 
was  the  minister.  He  was  one  who  loved  the 
little  children.  She  belonged  to  "  the  rising  gen- 
eration class,"  and  under  his  care  and  instruction 
the  Lord  opened  her  heart,  as  he  had  done  with 
Lydia,  and  sweetly  drew  her  to  himself  while  she 


The  Old  Sattctuary.  501 

was  quite  a  girl.  Though  she  had  passed  through 
great  troubles,  and  had  mourned  the  loss  of  her 
husband  and  all  her  children,  God  having  taken 
them  to  himself,  she  hopes  to  find  them  all  again. 
"  Up  there,  my  minister,"  she  says,  pointing  up- 
ward with  her  hand ;  "  they  are  all  up  there.  They 
were  all  brought  to  Jesus  and  died  happy,  and  I 
shall  find  them  up  there,  with  many  dear  friends 
who  have  crossed  over  Jordan  before  me." 

The  minister,  who  listened  with  tearful  eyes  to 
that  simple  tale  of  redeeming  grace,  has  often 
thought,  with  profound  interest,  of  the  expression 
used  by  that  unsophisticated  child  of  Africa,  "  The 
Lord  opened  my  heart  as  he  had  done  with  Lydia." 
Religion  did  indeed  open  her  heart,  for  she  was, 
though  in  humble  circumstances,  a  liberal  giver  to 
every  good  cause.  Several  years  later  that  minis- 
ter had  to  appeal  to  the  liberality  of  the  Church 
to  restore  a  large  and  beautiful  sanctuary  which 
had  been  nearly  destroyed  by  fire.  When  it  came 
to  the  turn  of  her  class — for  she  was  a  very  useful 
and  devoted  class-leader — to  be  spoken  to  on  this 
subject,  the  appeal  was  first  made  to  her:  "Well, 
Sister  F.,  what  can  you  afford  to  give  to  help  in 
restoring  the  chapel  ?  "  She  very  quietly  placed 
on  the  table  a  bank-note  for  twenty-four  dollars, 
(^5,)  saying,  "  That  is  my  mite,  minister."  Know- 
ing the  circumstances  of  the  donor,  and  surprised 
at  the  amount,  the  minister  said,  "  Can  you  give 
so  much  without  inconvenience  }  You  know  it  is 
not  required  to  be  paid  all  at  once,  but  in  three 
yearly  installments,  and  perhaps  that  will  be  more 


502        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

convenient  to  you  than  to  pay  it  all  now."  "No, 
minister,  that  money  is  the  Lord's.  I  put  it  by 
for  him,  and  he  must  have  it.  He  gives  me  all  I 
want.  Besides,  minister,  I  don't  expect  to  live 
three  years,  and  it  would  be  a  sad  thing  if  I 
should  die  owing  my  Lord  any  part  of  that  money 
when  I  am  able  to  give  it  to  him  now."  Before 
the  repairs  of  the  injured  building  were  com- 
pleted, before  the  year  had  expired,  that  minister 
stood  beside  the  open  grave  of  that  devoted 
woman.  She  had  passed  away,  in  glorious  tri- 
umph over  death,  to  find  the  loved  ones  that  had 
gone  before  to  the  happy  spirit-land.  It  was  with 
solemn,  chastened  joy  that  he  joined  the  multi- 
tude assembled  to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  a 
mother  in  Israel  in  singing 

"  Give  glory  to  Jesus,  our  Head, 

With  all  that  encompass  his  throne  ; 
A  widow,  a  widow  indeed, 

A  mother  in  Israel  is  gone  ! 
The  winter  of  trouble  is  past, 

The  storms  of  affliction  are  o'er  ; 
Her  struggle  is  ended  at  last. 

And  sorrow  and  death  are  no  more." 

When  she  has  taken  her  seat  other  speakers 
follow,  and  the  minister  has  always  to  select  one 
from  several  who  rise  at  the  same  time  to  tell  what 
the  Lord  has  done  for  their  souls.  A  glorious 
testimony  is  borne  by  many  happy  witnesses  to 
the  riches  of  divine  grace,  and  the  enlightening, 
saving  power  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.     That  hal- 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  503 

lowed  spot  has  been  the  spiritual  birthplace  of 
nearly  al  of  them,  for  it  is  there  they  heard  the 
truth  that  has  made  them  wise  unto  salvation, 
'*  being  born  again,  not  of  corruptible  seed,  but  of 
incorruptible,  by  the  word  of  God  which  liveth 
and  abideth  forever."  And  many  more  would 
bear  the  same  testimony  if  opportunity  could  be 
given  The  time  has  long  passed  when  the  meet- 
ing should  have  been  closed,  but  numbers  rise  up 
each  time  that  a  speaker  sits  down.  When  less 
than  half  an  hour  remains  before  the  time  for 
commencing  the  evening  public  service,  the  min- 
ister has  to  make  the  announcement,  while  a  dozen, 
at  least,  are  on  their  feet  as  candidates  for  the 
next  opportunity  to  be  heard,  that  the  love-feast 
must  now  be  closed.  The  singing  of  a  hymn  and 
a  brief  prayer  terminate  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing services,  and  certainly  the  most  memorable 
love-feast  he  has  ever  witnessed. 

He  has  only  a  few  moments  to  spend  in  the 
privacy  of  his  study,  and  to  partake  of  a  slight 
refreshment,  before  he  again  presents  himself  in 
the  pulpit  to  conduct  the  last  religious  service 
that  is  to  be  held  within  those  walls.  On  the 
morrow  the  premises  are  to  be  given  up  to  the 
contractor  for  the  new  building  which  is  to  oc- 
cupy the  same  site.  A  large  concourse  of  people 
is  gathered  all  around  the  place,  in  addition  to  the 
crowd  within,  for  the  communion  service  is  to 
close  the  day,  and  the  members  of  the  Methodist 
Churches  have  gathered  from  many  parts  to  be 
present  on  this  occasion.     All  are  anxious  to  share 


504         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

in  the  last  administration  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in 
that  holy  place,  where  they  have  so  often  realized 
the  presence  and  blessing  of  the  Church's  living 
Head,  and  received  the  instruction  which  tendeth 
to  life.  By  a  private  staircase  underneath  the 
pulpit,  and  communicating  with  the  household 
apartments  on  the  ground  floor,  the  minister  upon 
whom  the  services  for  the  day  have  devolved  again 
ascends  to  his  place,  to  commence  the  closing  serv- 
ice in  that  birthplace  of  many  souls. 

Appropriate  to  the  occasion  is  that  beautiful 
composition  of  Charles  Wesley's,  which  the 
preacher  selects  as  the  opening  hymn : — 

"  See  how  great  a  flame  aspires, 
Kindled  by  a  spark  of  grace." 

Sweet  and  full  is  the  volume  of  sound  with  which 
tuneful  voices  give  expression  to  its  glowing  and 
triumphant  strains,  the  whole  of  that  vast  congre- 
gation making  melody  in  their  hearts  unto  the 
Lord,  and  singing  with  the  spirit  and  with  the 
understanding  also.  Prayer  follows  the  hymn  of 
praise,  and  the  hearts  of  many  go  with  the  words 
of  the  minister  as,  leading  them  up  to  the  Divine 
footstool,  he  supplicates  that  the  blessing  of  the 
Church's  living  Head  may  be  given  to  crown  the 
present,  and  influence  the  future  even  more  abun- 
dantly than  it  has  been  vouchsafed  in  the  past. 
The  thirty-seventh  psalm  is  read,  and  another 
hymn  of  praise  rises  up  to  the  Divine  throne,  the 
loving  homage  of  grateful  hearts  to  the  Giver  of 
all  good. 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  505 

When  the  sound  has  died  away,  and  the  con- 
gregation have  settled  down  into  as  much  quietude 
as  the  density  of  the  crowd,  filling  every  available 
spot,  will  permit,  the  text  is  announced — i  Sam. 
vii,  12:  "Then  Samuel  took  a  stone,  and  set  it 
between  Mizpeh  and  Shen,  and  called  the  name 
of  it  Eben-ezer,  saying.  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord 
helped  us."  Reviewing  the  history  of  the  past, 
the  preacher  goes  back  to  the  time  when  scarcely 
a  ray  of  light  pierced  the  thick  darkness  that  over- 
spread these  beautiful  colonics  of  the  west,  and 
the  thousands  of  the  injured  children  of  Africa 
who  were  shut  out  from  the  light  of  Divine  truth 
and  the  hopes  of  life  and  immortality  inspired  by 
the  Gospel.  No  man  in  those  days  cared  for  their 
souls,  or  stretched  out  a  hand  to  lighten  the  cruel 
burden  of  oppression  that  was  heaped  upon  them. 
He  dwells  upon  the  operations  and  manifestations 
of  a  beneficent,  wise,  and  wonder-working  Provi- 
dence in  sending  the  missionary  to  their  help. 
He  sketches  the  condition  of  things  as  they  ex- 
isted when  the  only  ministers  of  religion  in  those 
lands  were  slaveholders  and  slave-oppressors, 
deeply  sunk,  like  others  around  them,  in  deprav- 
ity and  vice. 

He  speaks  of  the  time  when  a  few  miserable 
erections,  dignified  with  the  name  of  parish 
churches,  were  only  opened  occasionally  at  the 
pleasure  or  convenience  of  the  depraved  incum- 
bents, and  were  often  closed  for  weeks  and  months 
together,  when  scarcely  the  name  of  religion  was 
known  among  the  people ;   the  Sabbath  day  was 


5o6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

forgotten,  or  only  remembered  to  be  devoted  to 
unrestrained  riot  and  debauch  by  the  planters, 
and  unblushing  licentiousness  overspread  the  land. 
He  goes  back  to  the  period  when,  in  compassion 
to  the  miseries  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  Afri- 
ca's children  languishing  in  slavery  and  moral 
night  under  the  proud  flag  of  Britain,  the  Divine 
Head  of  the  Church  first  put  it  into  the  heart  of  a 
planter  and  slaveholder,  made  wise  unto  salvation 
under  the  ministry  of  Mr.  Wesley,  to  introduce 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  to  the  denizens  of  these 
western  isles.  He  tells  how,  in  answer  to  prayer, 
Jehovah,  by  a  wonderful  interposition  of  his  provi- 
dence, drove  Dr.  Coke  and  a  band  of  missionary 
laborers,  by  tempestuous  weather,  far  out  of  their 
intended  course,  and  brought  them  to  the  scene 
of  labor  he  had  prepared  for  them  and  designed 
them  to  occupy,  and  they,  recognizing  the  hand 
of  the  Lord  in  bringing  them  by  a  way  they  knew 
not,  and,  contrary  to  all  their  purposes  and  wishes, 
to  a  field  of  toil  they  had  never  thought  of,  entered 
zealously  upon  the  work  which  invited  them,  and 
proceeded  from  one  colony  to  another,  lifting  up 
the  banner  of  the  cross,  and  planting  Christian 
Churches,  until  in  due  time  they  reached  "the 
land  of  springs,"  and  proclaimed  the  Gospel 
there. 

Listening  ears  and  eager  hearts  take  in  the  story 
as  the  preacher  speaks  of  Dr.  Coke's  arrival  in 
Jamaica  on  the  19th  of  February,  1789,  bringing 
light  to  them  that  were  sitting  in  darkness,  and, 
as  the  sequel  proved,  the  opening  of  the  prison- 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  507 

doors  to  those  who  were  in  bondage,  both  tem- 
poral and  spiritual.  He  speaks  of  the  way  in 
which  God  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  some  to  afford 
facilities  for  the  preaching  of  the  truth,  and  how 
from  the  first  it  was  the  wisdom  of  God  and  the 
power  of  God  to  the  salvation  of  them  that  heard 
it — souls  being  awakened  and  brought  to  God. 
He  tells  of  persecutions  commencing  with  the  be- 
ginning of  the  mission,  and  how  God  gave  peace 
for  a  season  by  smiting  down  one  of  the  leading 
oppressors  suddenly  to  the  grave  in  the  midst  of 
his  evil  doings,  an  event  which  many  there  re- 
member well.  He  refers  to  the  men  of  God,  well 
known  to  not  a  few  of  the  congregation,  who,  for 
preaching  the  truth,  were  immured  in  the  dun- 
geons of  Kingston  and  Morant  Bay.  He  carries 
them  back  to  the  closing  of  the  chapel  by  a  per- 
secuting municipal  law  for  seven  years,  during 
which  no  voice  of  praise  or  prayer,  no  proclama- 
tion of  saving  truth,  was  heard  within  those  hal- 
lowed walls.  Hundreds  of  thoughtful  hearts 
respond  as  he  dwells  upon  the  prosperity  and 
increase  of  the  persecuted  Church,  showing  how 
in  the  dark  days,  when  persecution  was  triumph- 
ant, and  the  lips  of  faithful  ministers  were  silenced, 
the  Divine  Spirit  wrought  powerfully  in  many 
hearts,  awakening  and  convincing  of  sin,  and  de- 
positing there  the  seed  of  immortal  life,  so  that 
the  down-trodden  Church  grew  abundantly  in 
spiritual  life  and  energy.  Many  in  the  congre- 
gation were  brought  to  God  at  that  time. 

He  sketches,  in  vivid  description,  the  combina- 


5o8         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

tions  of  slaveholding  intolerants  to  extinguish  the 
spreading  light  of  Jehovah's  saving  truth  by  the 
enactment  of  oppressive  laws,  filled  with  the  cun- 
ning and  subtlety  of  the  old  Serpent.  Under  the 
pretext  of  ameliorating  the  condition  of  the  poor 
plundered  slave,  these  malignant  acts  were  de- 
signed to  enhance  the  wretchedness  and  hopeless- 
ness of  his  lot  by  shutting  him  up  in  ignorance  of 
God  and  of  salvation,  depriving  him  of  all  oppor- 
tunity of  hearing  the  truth  which  could  make  him 
wise  to  salvation,  and  gladden  his  spirit  in  the 
deep  debasement  of  his  bondage  with  the  glorious 
prospects  of  immortality  and  the  better  life  above. 
He  then,  with  joyous  gratitude  to  Him  that  sits 
upon  the  throne,  and  controls  and  directs  all 
events  of  earth  —  "  by  whom  kings  reign  and 
princes  decree  justice  " — describes  how  the  un- 
hallowed purposes  of  the  persecutors  were  baffled 
from  time  to  time  by  God  putting  it  into  the  heart 
of  the  reigning  sovereign  to  disallow  those  intol- 
erant laws,  by  withholding  that  royal  assent  which 
was  necessary  to  give  them  validity  and  perma- 
nence. 

He  refers  to  the  scene  which  those  around  him 
witnessed  only  a  few  months  before,  when  all  over 
the  land  thousands  were  gathered  at  the  midnight 
hour  in  the  sanctuaries  of  Jehovah  to  celebrate 
the  final  extinction  of  slavery,  and  to  receive,  as  it 
were,  from  the  Divine  hand,  the  precious  boon  of 
freedom.  Then  they  beheld  thousands  kneel 
down  with  all  the  restrictions  of  civil  bondage 
upon  them,  and  rise  up  again  in  a  few  minutes  the 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  509 

free  subjects  of  the  British  crown.  He  reminds 
therh  of  the  joy  which  thrilled  through  many- 
hearts  when  they  heard,  in  the  sonorous  tone  of 
the  adjacent  church  bell,  as  it  rang  out  the  mid- 
night hour,  the  death-knell  of  the  system.  And 
he  brings  back  again,  as  it  were,  the  scene  of 
weeping,  wondrous  excitement  that  met  theic 
view  while  the  newly-emancipated  multitude  that 
thronged  the  chapel  then  sang,  in  strains  only  to 
be  surpassed  in  sublimity  and  beauty  by  the 
chorus  of  the  skies, 

"  Send  the  glad  tidings  o'er  the  sea ; 
His  chain  is  broke,  the  slave  is  free. 
Britannia's  justice,  wealth,  and  might. 
Have  gained  the  negro's  long-lost  right. 
His  chain  is  broke,  the  slave  is  free: 
This  is  the  negro's  jubilee  !  " 

From  all  these  things  the  preacher  brings  forth 
illustrations  of  the  text,  and  shows  how  the  good 
hand  of  the  Lord  has  been  with  the  mission 
through  all  its  history,  arranging  and  overruling 
events,  even  the  most  adverse,  to  wise  and  gra- 
cious issues,  fulfilling  his  own  glorious  promise, 
"  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
love  God." 

He  pictures  to  them  the  fierce  and  fiery  perse- 
cution through  which  the  mission  has  been  passing 
more  recently.  He  tells  of  sanctuaries  demolished 
by  the  hands  of  persecuting  violence,  or  destroyed 
by  fire ;  now,  by  God's  good  favor,  rising  again 
out  of  their  ruins  and  furnishing  enlarged  means  of 


510         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

accommodation  to  Christian  worshipers.  He 
speaks  of  ministers  ferociously  assailed  by  excited 
mobs  of  slave-oppressors  in  their  own  houses,  or 
hunted  for  their  lives  like  partridges  upon  the 
mountains,  but  saved  by  a  gracious  interposing 
Providence  from  injury  and  death.  He  tells  of 
other  missionary  servants  of  God  tried  on  false 
charges  before  civil  and  military  tribunals,  the 
evidence  being  obtained  by  subornation  of  perjury 
to  condemn  them,  but  breaking  down  under  the 
weight  of  its  own  manifest  falsehood  and  incon- 
gruity. He  names  a  long  list  of  devoted,  faithful 
men  who,  within  the  last  six  or  seven  years,  have 
endured  the  loathsome  pestilential  atmosphere  of 
Jamaica  dungeons  for  preaching  the  truth  of 
Christ  to  perishing  men  —  Whitehouse,  Orton, 
Greenwood,  Murray,  Box,  Rowden,  all  suffering 
the  horrors  of  imprisonment  for  Jesus,  and  Grims- 
nall,  who,  poisoned  by  prison  malaria,  sank  un- 
der the  hands  of  his  persecutors  into  a  martyr's 
grave. 

He  rejoices,  and  many  hearts  partake  his  joy, 
that  these  things  have  come  to  an  end  ;  having  in 
the  counsels  of  unerring  Wisdom^  and  in  the  exer- 
cise of  a  kind  and  beneficent  Providence,  been 
overruled  to  the  overthrow  of  that  system  of  op- 
pression which  they  were  designed  to  support  and 
perpetuate. 

With  due  solemnity,  and  Avithout  mentioning 
names,  the  preacher,  while  his  auditors  listen  with 
breathless  interest,  calls  upon  them  to  regard  the 
works  of  the  Lord  and  consider  the  operation  of 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  5 1 1 

his  hands,  in  that  providence  of  righteous  retribu- 
tion which  is  even  now  in  exercise  around  tliem, 
reminding  them  that  the  Lord  "  ordaineth  his 
arrows  against  the  persecutors."  He  shows  how 
"  the  arms  of  the  wicked  have  been  broken,"  and 
the  righteous  have  been  upheld  in  the  events  of 
the  last  few  years.  He  speaks  of  suicides,  acci- 
dents, and  terrible  judgments  following  in  rapid 
succession.  Profound  reverence  pervades  that 
vast  assembly  while  the  preacher  goes  on  to  de- 
scribe the  unhallowed  combination  into  which 
these  men  had  entered  only  a  short  time  before, 
joining  hand  in  hand  to  extinguish  the  light  of 
God's  truth,  destroy  his  sanctuaries,  and  drive  all 
Gospel  messengers  from  the  land  ;  and  how,  in  a 
manner  most  wonderful,  God  had  scattered  them, 
and  brought  their  devices  to  none  effect.  With 
solemn  emphasis  he  quotes  those  words  of  the 
Psalmist,  while  all  hearts  feel  their  power  and 
truth  :  "  Wait  on  tlie  Lord,  and  keep  his  way,  and 
he  shall  exalt  thee  to  inherit  the  land  :  when  the 
wicked  are  cut  off,  thou  shalt  see  it.  I  have  seen 
the  wicked  in  great  power,  and' spreading  himself 
like  a  green  bay  tree.  Yet  he  passed  away,  and, 
lo,  he  was  not  :  yea,  I  sought  him,  but  he  could 
not  be  found."  Psalm  xxxvii,  34-36.  The  two 
great  lessons  which  the  preacher  derives  from  his 
review  of  the  past,  and  urges  upon  the  hearers, 
are,  "  Gratitude  for  Divine  Head  of  the  Church 
for  the  help  given  to  the  mission  in  the  past,  and 
a  sure  trust  and  confidence  that  his  presence  and 
aid  will  bless  the  future." 


512         RoMAxcz  V.'zTHivT  Frny. 

The  public  service  closes  -^r.'r.  z.  -  r  -  : 
pfrayer.  But  only  a  few  ther.  [-':  :':.-  :iap£i, 
for  the  serrices  of  the  day  are  : :  :  --i  with 
the  cdebration  of  the  holy  commi-.:-  T-'ise 
who  remain  hare  come  once  more  : :  -  -  —  -  :r 
covenant  engagements  with  their  &: '  ~  r 

on  that  well-loved  spot,  where  t?  - 

bom  again  for  the  better  and  nnch 
die  heavenly  world ;  and  it  is  to  gr:  It    -r 

(rf*  thousands  that  this  sacramentc..     . :       ^  - 

pointed  to  be  held.  The  few  ^ho  . .  -  r 
non-commnnicants  are  barely  sufficient  to  afford 
space  for  ea^  access  to  the  communion  place. 
Not  only  is  die  chapel  crowded,  but  also  the  large 
band-room  below;  and  hundreds  have  to  wait 
outside  who  cajinot  obtain  access  to  the  b*!i!<ii»i2 
atalL 

Probably  never  in  the  history  of  Methodism  has 
there  been  such  a  numerous  assemblage  of  com- 
municants on  the  same  spot  at  one  time.  They 
are  to  be  counted  by  diousands.  More  than  two 
thcrasand  persons  claim  membership  with  this  old 
sanctuary ;  and  Ae  multitudes  of  others  who  are 
entitled  to  the  privileges  of  Christian  fellowship 
in  Methodist  Churches  are  there,  to  unite,  for  the 
last  time,  in  the  sacramental  ordinance  beneath 
the  rocrf'  which  has  so  often  resounded  with  their 
piayeis  and  praises. 

In  addition  to  the  minister  upon  waoiDQ  has  de- 
Tohred  the  final  services  in  the  old  sanctuary  on 
this  last  day  of  its  existence,  three  others,  after 
discharging  their  dnties  elsewhere,  have  come  to 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  513 

give  their  aid  in  the  service.  This,  from  the  vast 
numbers  gathered  together,  is  likelv  to  be  a  pro- 
tracted one,  and  exhaustive  of  the  physical  energies 
which  have  already  been  severely  taxed  by  the  ex- 
ercises of  a  laborious  day. 

Philip  Chapman  is  there,  a  man  of  noble  pres- 
ence, just  ripened  into  full  manhood,  whose  ex- 
cellent gifts,  nurtured  and  developed  among  the 
earliest  residents  in  the  training  college  for  Wes- 
ley an  ministers,  afford  rich  promise  of  usefulness ; 
which  is,  alas !  destined  to  be  cut  off  by  his  early 
removal  to  the  mansions  above. 

Robert  Inglis  is  there,  gifted  in  no  ordinary  de- 
gree with  a  -chastened  eloquence  that  charms  the 
multitude,  and  is  destined  to  secure  for  him  an 
honorable  place  among  his  brethren  in  the  Churches 
of  Britain  in  after  years. 

Samuel  Simmons  is  there,  all  unconscious  that, 
like  Moses,  training  among  the  flocks  and  herds 
of  Horeb  for  the  lofty  position  he  was  destined  to 
occupy  as  the  leader  of  Jehovah's  chosen  people,  he 
is  here  being  trained  and  molded  under  the  Mas- 
ter's hand  to  stand  in  future  years  at  the  head  of 
one  of  the  educational  institutions  of  Methodism ; 
a  position  that  shall  invest  him  with  power  to  in- 
fluence in  no  small  degree  the  destinies  of  the 
youth  of  the  denomination. 

The  four  ministers  take  their  places  within  the 
communion  rail,  and  proceed  with  the  prelimi- 
naries of  the  solemn  service.  Then  follows  the 
distribution  of  the  elements  among  themselves. 
Dense  as  the   crowd  is  there  is  perfect  silence. 


514         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

and  a  solemn  sense  of  Jehovah's  presence  pervades 
the  congregation.  Tears  of  varying  emotion  are 
flowing  down  many  cheeks.  In  sweet,  subdued, 
solemn  cadence  arise  those  words  of  beautiful 
meaning,  sung  by  a  thousand  voices,  felt  in  thou- 
sands of  hearts  : 

"  Victim  Divine  !  thy  grace  we  claim 
While  thus  thy  precious  death  we  show  ; 

Once  offered  up  a  spotless  Lamb, 
In  thy  great  temple  here  below, 

Thou  didst  for  all  mankind  atone, 

And  standest  now  before  the  throne." 

While  these  strains  are  going  up  before  God, 
through  the  narrow  opening  in  the  crowd,  which 
has  been  kept  clear  to  afford  access  to  the  com- 
munion table,  an  aged  couple  slowly  advance  to 
the  rail  and  kneel  there  by  themselves.  Both  are 
enfeebled  by  age  ;  and  they  are  specimens  of  the 
classes  who  constitute  the  bulk  of  the  Methodist 
Churches.  The  one  is  pure  black,  the  other  of 
mixed  blood — a  mulatto — and  they  come  to  the 
communion  table  alone,  as  the  only  surviving 
members  of  the  first  class  formed  in  the  land  in 
connection  with  the  Methodist  mission.  One  is 
William  Harris,  the  other  Sarah  Wilkinson,  the 
only  survivors  of  the  little  society  of  Methodists 
formed  by  Dr.  Coke  on  his  first  visit  to  the 
island. 

It  is  with  peculiar  feelings  that  the  presiding 
minister  hands  to  this  pair  of  faithful  pilgrims, 
now  near  the  end  of  their  journey,  the  emblems 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  5^5 

of  their  Saviour's  dying  love.  He  rejoices  with 
them  that,  besides  the  goodly  multitude  of  re- 
deemed spirits  which,  during  the  lapse  of  the  fifty 
years  since  they  gave  themselves  to  Christ,  have 
passed  away  from  this  land  into  the  abodes  of  the 
blessed,  the  little  class  of  which  they  were  the  earliest 
members  has  expanded  into  numerous  Churches, 
scattered  over  all  the  land,  whose  living  members 
furnish  an  aggregate  of  more  than  twenty  thousand 
souls.  In  a  few  words  he  congratulates  them  on 
the  near  prospect  in  which  they  exult  of  entering 
triumphantly  the  joy  of  their  Lord,  and  they  re- 
tire as  they  approached,  attended  with  the  respect 
and  reverence  of  all  beholders. 

This  interesting  episode  finished,  the  multitude 
of  communicants  begin  to  approach  the  table. 
The  crowd  is  great,  but  there  is  no  pushing,  no 
selfish  striving  for  precedence.  The  true  courte- 
sy which  the  unselfishness  of  Christianity  inspires 
pervades  the  entire  assembly,  maintaining  a  per- 
fect order  and  quietude  befitting  the  solemnity  of 
the  occasion.  A  cheerful  preference  is  yielded  to 
the  aged  and  infirm.  As  the  service  goes  on  a 
continuous  stream  pours  down  one  side  of  the 
broad  staircase  to  the  rooms  below,  while  another 
unbroken  stream  ascends  on  the  other  side  to 
take  the  places  they  have  vacated  in  the  chapel 
above.  Occasionally  a  hymn  is  sung  to  afford 
utterance  to  the  devotional  feelings  of  the  mul- 
titude ;  but  no  time  is  lost.  The  four  ministers 
are  engaged   continuously  in  the  distribution  of 

the  sacred  elements.     Nine  o'clock  tolls  from  the 
83 


5i6         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

adjacent  church  steeple.  Then  ten  o'clock  comes, 
and  still  the  stream  of  communicants  pours  in  and 
retires.  Eleven  o'clock  finds  the  ministers  weary 
///,  but  not  of^  their  delightful  toil,  and  it  is  still 
the  same.  Not  until  the  midnight  hour  has  been 
rung  out  in  sonorous  tones  from  the  town  clock  do 
the  people  cease  to  come.  Then,  with  the  dox- 
ology  and  the  closing  prayer  and  benediction,  the 
congregation  is  dismissed.  Many  of  them  linger 
to  look  again  and  again  upon  the  place,  grown 
dingy  with  age,  but  endeared  to  their  hearts  by 
the  precious  memories  of  the  past,  associated  with 
glorious  hopes  of  the  future,  that  have  been  awak- 
ened there. 

Thus  terminates  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten  by 
the  missionary  whose  privilege  it  has  been  to  con- 
duct the  several  services  by  which  it  has  been 
occupied.  These  services  will  be  classed  among 
many  strange  and  heart-stirring  scenes  which,  in 
the  good  providence  of  God,  have  been  permitted 
to  mark  and  diversify  a  life  that  has  not  yet 
reached  its  manhood  prime.  He  too  lingers  for 
a  short  time  to  look  around  upon  the  time-hon- 
ored walls,  in  which  he  has  listened  to  and  seen 
so  much  during  the  day  to  stir  the  profoundest 
depths  of  his  nature,  and  produce  impressions 
that  can  never  be  erased. 

One  scene  is  fresh  in  his  recollection.  Here 
only  a  few  months  ago  it  was  his  honor  and  priv- 
ilege to  stand  up  a  few  hours  after  the  fetters  had 
dropped  at  the  midnight  hour  from  the  limbs  of 
more  than  eight  hundred  thousand  British  slaves, 


The  Old  Sanctuary.  517 

and  proclaim  to  the  dominant  class  of  the  popu- 
lation— now  slaveholders  no  longer — "  Ye  were 
now  turned,  and  had  done  right  in  my  sight,  in 
proclaiming  every  one  liberty  to  his  neighbor." 
Jer,  xxxiv,  15. 

Wearied  with  exhausting  toil,  continuing  almost 
without  intermission  from  six  in  the  morning  until 
after  midnight,  and  which  has  strained  to  the  full- 
est tension  all  his  faculties  of  mind  and  body,  he 
lays  him  down  to  find  a  welcome  rest,  devotedly 
grateful  to  Almighty  God  for  the  manifold  bless- 
ings of  that  memorable  day. 

The  sun  has  advanced  several  hours  toward  his 
zenith  before  the  worn-out  energies  of  the  mis- 
sionary have  been  so  recruited  as  to  suffer  him  to 
rise.  When  he  directs  his  footsteps  to  the  large 
open  square,  on  the  eastern  side  of  which  the 
chapel,  which  was  the  scene  of  the  past  day's 
labors,  occupies  a  prominent  position,  and  lifts  his 
eyes  to  the  familiar  spot,  he  beholds  a  ruin  !  From 
early  dawn  the  contractor  has  taken  possession  of 
the  building,  and  a  large  gang  of  laborers  have 
been  engaged  in  the  work  of  demolition.  Only  a 
fragment  of  the  roof  is  left  upon  the  walls.  And 
what  a  scene  is  presented  all  around  !  All  over 
the  extensive  square  there  are  groups  of  people, 
amounting  to  some  thousands,  who  have  come 
from  far  and  near  to  see,  as  they  say,  "  the  last  of 
the  old  house."  It  is  a  Bochim,  for  weeping  and 
lamentation  are  all  around.  There  are  hundreds 
of  sable  faces  bedewed  with  tears,  and  loud  and 
general  are  the  expressions  of  regret  which  burst 


5i8        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

forth  from  the  spectators  as  they  wring  their  hands 
and  gaze  upon  the  spoiling  of  the  place,  which, 
destitute  of  all  architectural  pretensions,  has  been 
to  them,  above  every  other  spot  on  earth, "  the  holy 
and  the  beautiful  place." 

Thus  it  continues  through  the  day.  One  group 
of  mourners  succeeds  another  until  the  night  closes 
in  upon  a  heap  of  ruins.  But  out  of  these  shall 
arise  another  and  more  commodious  house  of 
prayer,  which,  like  the  one  giving  place  to  it,  is 
destined  to  resound  with  prayer  and  praise  and 
the  faithful  proclamation  of  the  grand  saving 
truths  of  the  Gospel.  And  the  second  sanctuary, 
like  the  first,  shall  become  the  honored  birth- 
place of  a  multitude  of  souls  quickened  there  to 
spiritual  and  endless  life,  who,  when  their  redemp- 
tion is  completed  at  the  end  of  time,  shall  shine 
forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father 
for  ever  and  ever. 


The  Curse  Causeless.  519 


XXVI. 


The  Curse  Causeless. 

Lives  there  a  savage  ruder  than  the  slave  ? 
— Cruel  as  death,  insatiate  as  the  grave, 
False  as  the  winds  that  round  his  vessel  blow, 
Remorseless  as  the  gulf  that  yawns  below,    * 
Is  he  who  toils  upon  the  wafting  flood, 
A  Christian  broker  In  the  trade  of  blood ; 
Boisterous  in  speech,  in  action  prompt  and  bold, 
He  buys,  he  sells — he  steals,  he  kills  for  gold  I 

MONTGOMEBT. 

~'  F  I  could  have  my  will  I  would  blow  up  the 


I 


cursed  sedition  shop,  hurl  it  down  from  the 
hill,  and  throw  every  brick  and  timber  of  it 

into  the  sea.     I  should  like  to  see  the chapel 

blasted  with  lightning  and  tumbled  down  from  the 
rock." 

The  speaker  was  the  captain  of  a  merchant  ship 
then  lying  at  anchor  in  Manchioneal  Bay,  at  the 
east  end  of  Jamaica,  taking  in  her  cargo  of  sugar 
and  rum  for  an  English  port.  He  was  a  burly, 
coarse-looking  man,  whose  countenance,  bloated 
and  fiery  red,  spoke  of  frequent  and  liberal  pota- 
tions, and  marked  him  out  as  belonging  to  that 
numerous  class  of  marine  commanders  whose  in- 
temperate habits  are  productive  of  more  damage 
and  destruction  to  ships,  passengers,  and  cargoes 
than  all  the  fury  of  the  elements,  and  are  the 
means  of  bringing  about  more  shipwrecks  than 


520         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

any  other  single  cause  whatever ;  men  fond  of 
using  the  marlinspike  upon  the  heads  of  their 
crews,  and  whose  savage  barbarities,  practiced 
upon  the  unfortunate  sailors  and  boys  intrusted 
to  their  control,  not  unfrequently  furnish  soul- 
harrowing  details  for  the  columns  of  the  newspa- 
per press. 

This  Captain  B.  had  for  some  years  been  trading 
to  Jamaica  ports.  Frequently  lying  there  for  sev- 
eral months  together,  while  his  cargo  was  being 
prepared  or  collected  for  him,  he  had  formed  inti- 
mate associations  with  some  of  the  most  hardened 
of  the  slave-driving  fraternity  ;  and  he  had  become 
imbued  with  that  brutal  indifference  to  human  suf- 
fering by  which  many  of  the  Jamaica  planters  were 
characterized,  from  long  familiarity  with  the  worst 
atrocities  incident  to  such  a  system  of  outrage  and 
wrong.  It  was  even  whispered  that  in  the  evil 
days,  when  the  British  ensign  floated  over  the  deck 
of  the  slave-ship  trading  to  the  African  coast,  he 
had  been  in  command  of  one  of  those  floating 
hells,  and  had  become  familiarized  with  habits  of 
reckless  cruelty  which  more  nearly  assimilate  men 
to  fiends  than  any  thing  else  on  this  side  of  perdi- 
tion. If  such  were  the  case,  the  shocking  deprav- 
ity and  brutality  by  which  the  man  was  distin- 
guished were  sufficiently  accounted  for. 

However  this  may  be,  Captain  B.  was  a  man 
ready  for  every  evil  work.  Even  in  that  sin- 
stained  land,  where  all  wickedness  was  rampant, 
none  could  imbibe  deeper  potations  than  he. 
None  could  surpass  him  in  the  utterance  of  bias- 


,  TJic  Curse  Causeless.  521 

phemous  and  horrible  imprecations,  which  fell  al- 
most incessantly  from  his  unhallowed  lips  and  yet 
more  polluted  heart.  None  were  more  shameless 
in  the  practice  of  unbounded  licentiousness  and 
debauchery.  That  such  a  man  should  look  with 
evil  eye  upon  the  benevolent  work  of  the  Chris- 
tian missionary  among  the  toil-worn  slaves  was  not 
surprising ;  and  that  he  should  enter,  heart  and 
soul,  into  any  persecuting  measures  of  the  Jamaica 
planters,  was  to  be  looked  for  as  a  matter  of  course. 
In  the  early  part  of  1832,  when  an  unholy  com- 
bination was  formed  by  the  plantocracy  of  Ja- 
maica, to  banish  all  missionary  instructors  of  their 
slaves  from  the  land,  and  to  demolish  all  the  sanc- 
tuaries in  which  the  word  of  life  was  held  forth  to 
the  oppressed,  in  order  that  the  yoke  of  bondage 
might  be  more  securely  and  permanently  bound 
upon  the  down-trodden  race,  none  were  more  for- 
ward and  active  than  Captain  B.  in  deeds  of  vio- 
lence and  sacrilege.  His  ship,  then  lying  in  the 
north-side  port,  contributed  ropes  and  blocks  to 
promote  the  demolition  of  several  houses  of  prayer. 
The  men  under  his  command,  inflamed  and  mad- 
dened by  a  large  allowance  of  rum,  dealt  out 
to  them  for  the  purpose,  were  marched  from 
place  to  place  to  assist  the  planters  in  their  fiendish 
rage  to  lay  Christian  sanctuaries  level  with  the 
ground.  In  this  Captain  B.  found  a  labor  of  love, 
toiling  himself,  with  an  energy  he  never  devoted  to 
any  good  or  useful  purpose,  in  the  abortive  effort 
to  drive  Christian  teachers  from  the  country  by 
destroying  their  chapels  and  their  dwellings. 


522         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

It  was  about  a  year  after  these  deeds  of  violence 
had  been  perpetrated,  and  while  the  demolished 
sanctuaries  still  lay  in  heaps  of  ruins,  that  the  ship 
of  which  Captain  B.  was  the  commander,  the  "  E.," 
had  arrived  in  the  small  harbor  of  Manchioneal  to 
take  in  her  cargo  of  sugar  and  rum.  And  it  was 
shortly  after  she  had  dropped  her  anchor  in  the 
bay  that  her  captain,  passing  along  the  single 
street  of  the  little  village,  lifted  his  eyes  to  a  build- 
ing occupying  a  beautiful  and  prominent  situation 
far  above  him,  and  gave  utterance,  with  oaths  and 
curses  the  repetition  of  which  may  not  pollute  our 
pages,  to  the  words  we  have  referred  to.  The 
building  in  question  was  a  neat-looking  Methodist 
place  of  worship,  built  of  brick,  and  occupying  a 
lovely  position  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  which  rises 
abruptly  from  the  beach  along  which  the  main 
road  passes  to  the  north  of  the  island. 

An  enchanting  landscape  presented  itself  to  view 
from  the  rocky  platform  on  which  the  humble  sanc- 
tuary had  been  placed.  Just  beneath  was  the  little 
bay,  hemmed  in  by  dangerous  reefs.  Beyond  this 
was  seen  the  broad  ocean,  stretching  away  to  the 
east  in  boundless  perspective,  with  the  vast  rollers 
of  the  Atlantic  breaking  with  thundering  roar  upon 
the  reefs  outside,  sending  clouds  of  snow-white 
spray  high  into  the  air.  On  either  side  stretched 
the  iron-bound  coast.  The  numerous  plantations, 
with  their  massive  sugar-works  and  vast  fields  of 
luxuriant  cane,  diversified  and  enriched  with  sym- 
metrical cabbage-palms  and  plume-topped  cocoa- 
nut  trees,  exhibited  a  scene  of  wondrous  beauty 


The  Curse  Causeless.  523 

only  to  be  looked  upon  within  or  near  the  tropics. 
With  a  malignity  only  equaled  by  its  folly,  this 
ruffianly  man  had  joined  with  the  St.  Ann's  and 
Trelawny  planters  in  drunken  vows  and  pledges 
that  every  missionary  establishment  should  be 
overthrown ;  flattering  themselves  with  the  vain 
hope  that  the  work  of  destruction  they  had  com- 
menced on  the  north  side  would  go  on  until  no 
missionary  preaching-place  for  the  slaves  could  be 
found  in  the  land. 

In  this  expectation  he  had  sailed  from  the  island 
a  few  months  before.  All  the  fiend  within  him  is 
aroused,  and  he  raves  like  a  maniac  when,  hasten- 
ing ashore,  as  soon  as  he  has  dropped  his  anchor 
in  the  bay,  one  of  the  first  objects  that  arrests  his 
attention  is  the  Methodist  chapel,  confronting  him 
in  prominent  security  on  the  hill,  the  glass  win- 
dows of  the  little  sanctuary  reflecting  with  dazzling 
brilliancy  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun.  He  stands 
heaping  curses  upon  all  missionaries  and  their 
chapels,  and  denouncing  the  cowardice  of  the 
planters  in  the  neighborhood,  which  has  allowed 
the  chapel  before  him  to  remain  undestroyed. 
Shaking  his  clenched  fist  in  impotent  malice  at  the 
object  of  his  wrath,  he  concludes  his  tirade  of 
blasphemy  and  profaneness  with  the  sentence  al- 
ready given  :  "If  I  could  have  my  will  I  would 
blow  up  the  cursed  sedition  shop,  hurl  it  from  the 
hill,  and  throw  every  brick  and  timber  of  it  into 

the    sea,      I  should   like    to   see    the chapel 

blasted  with  lightning  and  tumbled  down  from  the 
rock." 


524         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

His  violence  and  loud  denunciations  have  caused 
several  persons  to  collect  around  him,  wondering 
at  the  rage  into  which  the  sight  of  the  uninjured 
chapel  has  thrown  him.  No  one  attempts  to  inter- 
rupt him  until  his  rage  seems  to  be  somewhat  ex- 
hausted. But  when  he  has  finished,  a  decent, 
middle-aged  black  woman  steps  up  to  him.  Her 
heart  has  been  stirred  within  her  on  hearing  these 
impotent  curses  heaped  upon  the  place  which  is 
dearer  and  more  sacred  to  her  than  any  other  spot 
on  earth,  as  having  been  the  birthplace  of  her 
soul,  and  the  scene  of  many  a  heartfelt  joy.  Lay- 
ing her  hand  gently  upon  his  arm  she  says,  "  Take 
care,  cap'en,  dat  dem  curse  no  come  'pon  your 
own  ship.  Look  out,  cap'en,  dat  God  no  break  dat 
ship  to  pieces,  and  trow  him  in  de  sea,  for  de  bad 
word  you  speak  here  to-day."  The  blasphemer 
is — to  use  a  nautical  expression — brought  up  all 
standing  by  this  unexpected  rebuke,  while  the 
woman  passes  on,  not  disposed,  apparently,  to 
await  the  volley  of  abuse  that  might  have  been 
expected  to  follow  it.  But  the  blasphemer,  con- 
tent with  bidding  his  reprover  go  to  that  dark  re- 
gion to  which  he  himself  was  manifestly  hastening, 
turns  away,  and  takes  his  departure  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

In  due  time  he  gets  his  vessel  loaded,  and  takes 
his  cargo  in  safety  across  the  Atlantic,  and  after 
the  lapse  of  some  months  the  "E."  again  drops 
her  anchor  in  Manchioneal  Bay.  And  here  stands 
the  chapel  as  before,  its  windows  throwing  back  in 
golden  glory  the  first  bright  rays  of  the  morning 


The  Curse  Causeless.  525 

sun.  And  there  it  is  likely  to  remain  ;  tor  during 
the  last  few  months  the  power  of  the  oppressor  has 
been  broken  in  these  sunny  isles  by  the  passing  of 
the  law  which  breaks  off  the  manacles  from  nearly 
a  million  of  British  slaves.  Already  God  has  or- 
dained his  arrows  against  the  persecutors  ;  and  not 
a  few  of  the  bold,  bad  men  who  had  lifted  sacrile- 
gious hands  against  the  sanctuaries  of  the  living 
God  are  lying  silent  and  powerless  in  the  grave, 
to  which  they  have  been  swept  by  the  judgments 
of  his  hand.  The  reign  of  violence  and  persecution 
has  been  checked.  The  unholy  band  which  for  a 
season  trampled  down  law  and  order,  and  filled 
the  land  with  violence  and  wrong,  has  been  shat- 
tered— broken  in  pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel. 

Captain  B.  proceeds  with  the  loading  of  his 
vessel,  and  she  has  her  full  cargo  on  board — filled 
to  the  hatches  with  the  last  produce  of  sugar  and 
rum  that  is  to  be  obtained  within  the  British  West 
India  Isles  by  the  unrequited  toil  of  the  slaves. 
It  is  in  the  early  part  of  1834,  just  after  my  re- 
moval to  a  new  sphere  of  labor  in  the  eastern  dis- 
trict of  the  island  in  which  Manchioneal  is 
included.  On  a  lovely  day  in  March  I  paid  my 
first  visit  to  the  pleasant  little  town  of  Manchioneal. 
Traveling  from  Bath  in  a  gig,  I  was  enchanted  with 
the  beautiful  scenery  on  the  way;  especially  the 
magnificent  panorama  of  rural  beauty  spread  before 
my  eye  as  I  gazed  from  Qua  Hill  upon  the  far- 
stretching  plantations  of  the  Plantain  Garden  river. 
Never  before  had  I  looked  upon  such  a  scene  of 
paradisaic  loveliness.      As  I  enter  the  little  town 


526  Romance  Without  Fiction. 

where  my  journey  is  to  terminate,  I  see  the  "  E." 
deep  in  the  water,  with  the  rich  freight  she  has 
taken  in.  Riding  gracefully  at  anchor  in  the  land- 
locked bay,  with  all  her  sails  bent  ready  to  put  ta 
sea,  she  forms  a  prominent  and  pleasant  object  in 
the  landscape,  which  varies  continually  as  I  drive 
along  the  beach  and  round  the  points  and  bluffs 
that  project  into  the  road. 

In  conversation  with  the  people,  after  reaching 
the  end  of  my  journey,  I  ascertain  that  the  "  E." 
has  completed  her  cargo  nearly  two  weeks  ago ; 
but  it  is  the  peculiarity  of  this  harbor  that  only  a 
westerly  wind  will  carry  a  loaded  ship  out  of  the 
bay,  and  the  wind  must  have  some  force  in  it  to 
carry  her  beyond  the  Carpenter's  Reefs. 

This  is  a  very  ugly,  dangerous  bed  of  rocks 
lying  right  across  the  entrance,  upon  which  many 
hapless  vessels  have  been  cast  through  venturing, 
with  too  light  a  breeze,  to  attempt  to  get  out  of  the 
harbor,  and  face  the  great  swelling  billows  of  the 
Atlantic,  which  the  trade  winds  send  rolling  di- 
rectly into  the  bay  with  stupendous  power.  It  is 
but  seldom  that  a  westerly  wind  does  prevail 
there,  and  Captain  B.  has  been  waiting  day  after 
day,  looking  in  vain  for  the  favoring  breeze. 

Not  remarkable  for  his  patience  and  amiability 
at  any  time,  he  has  wrought  himself,  under  the 
continued  disappointment,  into  a  mood  which  ren- 
ders it  as  pleasant  to  approach  him  as  it  would  be 
to  meet  a  bear  robbed  of  her  whelps.  Except 
among  the  planters,  who  are  men  of  kindred  spirit 
in  this  locality,  he  is  an  object  of  general  dislike. 


The  Curse  Causeless.  527 

He  has  boasted  loudly  of  the  part  he  took  in  the 
destruction  of  mission  property  in  a  distant  part 
of  the  island.  He  has  done  all  he  could  to  stir  up 
others  to  do  the  same  here  ;  and  the  anathemas  he 
uttered  against  the  chapel  on  the  hill  a  year  ago, 
and  the  rebuke  and  warning  administered  to  him 
by  the  negro  woman,  have  been  matter  of  conver- 
sation in  many  a  cottage  and  hut  around  the 
neighborhood.  He  has,  therefore,  met  with  little 
sympathy  as  the  weeks  have  rolled  on,  and  his 
wind-bound  ship  failed  to  get  to  sea.  The  day  on 
which  I  arrive  upon  the  scene,  and  learn  all 
these  particulars  from  the  people  of  the  village, 
happens  to  be  the  day  for  the  monthly  muster  of 
the  militia  of  the  parish ;  and  the  redoubtable 
captain  has  gone  to  dine  with,  and  share  the  revels 
of,  a  party  of  planter  officers,  who  are  in  the  habit 
of  celebrating  such  an  occasion  by  a  drunken 
carousal,  in  which  Captain  B.  has  not  the  least 
objection  to  participate. 

A  lovely  night  follows  the  beautiful  day  which 
marks  my  first  visit  to  Manchioneal,  and  the 
brilliant  moon,  in  her  second  quarter,  is  shedding 
floods  of  silver  glory  all  around,  when  about  ten 
o'clock  I  retire  to  the  room  prepared  for  me.  I 
have  not  yet  laid  down  to  rest,  when  the  loud 
booming  report  of  a  large  gun  awakens  the  echoes 
of  the  hills  around,  arousing  many  from  their  early 
slumbers,  as  I  can  hear  from  the  hum  of  numerous 
voices  floating  upon  the  air.  A  few  minutes  elapse, 
and  again  the  thundering  of  the  cannon  coming 
from  the  sea  startles  the  listening  inhabitants  of 


528         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  town,  and  proclaims  that  there  is  a  vessel  in 
distress  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor.  All  eyes  are 
directed  to  the  bay,  and  it  is  discovered  that  the 
"E."  is  no  longer  at  her  anchorage.  Through 
the  clear  moonlight  she  can  be  seen  with  her  sails 
fluttering  in  the  utmost  disorder,  and  apparently, 
lying  on  her  broadside,  upon  the  Carpenter's  Reef. 
The  bay  is  calm  and  smooth.  A  crowd  gathers 
on  the  beach,  and  a  multitude  of  boats  are  soon 
pushing  off  in  eager  haste  to  render  aid  to  the  un- 
fortunate vessel,  it  is  not  much,  however,  that 
they  can  do.  The  "E."  is  in  a  position  to  be- 
come a  hopeless  wreck ;  for  the  "  curse  cause- 
less" breathed  by  her  captain  upon  the  house  of 
prayer,  has  fallen  upon  his  own  ship  ;  and  there, 
in  perfectly  fine  weather,  she  lies  cast  away  upon 
the  rocks. 

The  facts  which  have  led  to  the  catastrophe  soon 
transpire.  The  captain,  inflamed  and  rendered 
foolhardy  by  the  large  potations  he  has  imbibed  at 
the  militia  officers'  party,  arrived  at  the  bay  soon 
after  dark,  and  hailing  his  boat,  immediately  went 
on  board.  A  slight  westerly  wind — the  first  time  for 
many  weeks — was  blowing  off  the  shore,  and  he 
at  once  gave  orders  for  the  anchor  to  be  weighed, 
and  for  the  ship  to  be  put  to  sea.  The  mate, 
whose  brain  was  not  muddled  with  strong  drink, 
ventured  to  remonstrate,  and  told  the  captain  that 
the  breeze  was  not  sufficiently  strong  to  carry  the 
ship  safely  beyond  the  Carpenter's.  With  brutal 
curses  he  was  bidden  to  "  stop  his  jaw,  and  mind 
his  own  business."     Not  without  dismal  forebod- 


The  Ctirse  Causeless.  529 

ings  he  proceeded  to  obey  orders,  and  get  the 
ship  under  weigh  ;  and  soon,  with  lifted  anchor, 
the  fine  vessel,  all  her  sails  spread  to  the  breeze, 
was  slowly  moving  on  her  dangerous  course  to  the 
mouth  of  the  bay.  As  the  mate  had  foreseen,  be- 
fore they  got  clear  of  the  fatal  bed  of  rocks  the 
wind  failed,  and  every  sail  was  flapping  useless 
against  the  masts,  leaving  the  vessel  at  the  mercy 
of  the  heavy  waves,  rolling  in  with  the  full  force 
of  the  trade-winds  from  the  vast  Atlantic  Ocean. 
Too  late  the  drunken  commander  was  sobered  by 
the  peril  upon  which  he  had  madly  rushed.  He 
saw  the  danger,  but  he  was  helpless.  The  ship 
was  drifting  back  toward  the  rocks,  and  he  or- 
dered the  two  guns  to  be  fired  which  gave  the 
alarm  on  shore.  In  a  few  moments  one  monster 
wave  lifted  her  for  a  second  or  two  upon  its  crest, 
and  then  heaved  her  with  a  tremendous  crash,  by 
which  her  side  was  smashed  in,  high  upon  the 
Carpenter's  Reef,  where  many  a  fair  vessel  before 
her  had  found  a  grave. 

The  shock  has  been  sufficient  to  snap  her 
masts  asunder  like  carrots  ;  and  all  three  of  them, 
with  sails  and  rigging,  have  fallen  over  the  ship. 
There  is,  however,  but  little  danger  to  life ;  for 
the  ship  is  thrown  high  upon  the  reef,  where  she 
is  likely  to  remain  ;  and  the  shore  is  close  at  hand, 
with  numerous  boats  ready  in  the  bay,  where  the 
water  is  comparatively  smooth,  to  come  to  the  help 
of  the  crew. 

These  are  the  particulars  which  I  gather 
concerning  the  wreck,- partly  on  the  beach,,  after 


530        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

the  guns  have  given  the  signal  of  a  ship  in  dis- 
tress, and  partly  on  following  days  as  the  facts 
come  gradually  to  light.  "  Me  no  wonder  a  bit, 
minister,"  says  one  of  my  informants,  who  seems 
to  take  a  very  lively  interest  in  the  melancholy 
event.  "  Sorry  for  dat  cap'en  lose  him  ship  ;  but 
me  no  wonder,  minister,  dat  de  cuss  come  'pon 
him  own  head.  Me  tell  him  so,  minister.  When 
him  cuss  de  chapel,  and  wish  to  see  him  all 
broken  down  in  pieces,  and  trow  into  de  sea,  me 
tell  him,  *  Take  care,  cap'en,  decuss  no  come  'pon 
your  own  ship.  Take  care  God  no  break  him 
in  pieces  when  you  go  to  sea.'  And  for  sure  de 
ship  is  now  all  going  to  pieces  on  de  Carpenter 
Reef." 

It  is  a  mournful  spectacle  truly.  The  next  day, 
Sunday,  the  weather  is  beautifully  fine  and  the  sea 
comparatively  still.  There,  almost  out  of  the 
water,  lies  the  "  E."  on  her  broadside,  in  such 
a  position  that,  although  it  is  evident  she  will  be 
a  total  wreck,  yet  there  is  a  hope  that  the  larger 
portion  of  her  valuable  cargo  may  be  rescued. 
Ere  the  dawn  of  another  day  this  hope  has  van- 
ished. A  strong  easterly  breeze  has  set  in,  bring- 
ing a  heavy  rolling  sea  right  into  the  bay.  The 
mighty  waves  break  over  and  soon  break  through 
the  unfortunate  vessel,  washing  out  all  her  cargo,  of 
which  little  besides  some  puncheons  of  rum  can  be 
saved.  In  a  short  time  the  wreck  is  broken  all  to 
pieces  by  the  violence  of  the  waves  ;  and  all  that 
is  left  of  the  ship  I  saw  so  proudly  riding  upon 
the  surface  of  the  bay  a  few  days  ago  is  a  quantity 


Tkc  Curse  Causeless.  53 1 

of  broken,  shattered  timbers,  strewed  upon  the 
sands.  Captain  B.,  chagrined  and  greatly  broken 
down  by  the  magnitude  of  the  calamity  that  has 
come  upon  him,  took  passage  to  England  in  a 
ship  from  another  port,  a  sadder  and,  I  hope,  a 
wiser  man.  I  never  met  with  nor  heard  of  him 
again. 

34 


532         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XXVII. 

The  Wedding. 

Are  we  not  one  ?  are  we  not  joined  by  Heaven  ? 
Each  interwoven  \vith  the  other's  fate  ? 
Are  we  not  mix'd  like  streams  of  meeting  rivers, 
"Whose  blended  waters  are  no  more  distinguished, 
But  roll  into  the  sea  one  common  flood  ? — Howe. 

**  'W^HE  bride  come,  minister,  and  all  the  party 
1^^^  are  in  the  chapel."  So  spake  Anthony, 
the  chapel-keeper  at  E.,  Barbadoes,  as 
he  made  his  appearance  in  my  study  one  fore- 
noon to  carry  down  the  ponderous  marriage  reg- 
ister books,  which  were  always  kept  there  for 
safety,  and  were  now  required  for  use. 

Proceeding  immediately  to  the  chapel  close  at 
hand,  I  found  a  large  and  gay  party  assembled. 
There  were  at  least  a  dozen  vehicles  of  various 
descriptions  at  the  front  of  the  chapel,  several  of 
them  the  handsome  family  equipages  of  the  resi- 
dent proprietors  of  the  surrounding  plantations. 
These  gentlemen  would  sometimes  kindly  afford 
the  use  of  their  carriages  when  young  people 
among  their  employes  were  about  to  enter  into 
hymeneal  relations,  and  they  or  their  parents  or 
friends  had  won  the  good-will  of  their  aristocratic 
neighbors.  Consequently  a  marriage  among  peo- 
ple of  lowly  condition  in  Barbadoes,  or  other  West 


The  Wedding.  533 

India  colonies,  is  often  marked  by  a  degree  of 
show  and  bustle  that  awakens  the  surprise  of  a 
stranger.  Sometimes,  if  it  happens  to  be  a  favor- 
ite domestic  that  appears  as  the  bride,  the  ladies 
of  the  family  will  lend  their  jewels,  gold  chains, 
etc.,  for  the  occasion,  and  enable  the  sable  maiden 
to  present  herself  to  her  future  lord  adorned  in 
almost  eastern  splendor. 

On  the  present  occasion  the  carriage  of  one  of 
the  principal  men  of  the  parish,  drawn  by  a  pair 
of  powerful  bays,  and  driven  by  a  servant  in  half 
livery,  had  brought  the  bride  and  a  coterie  of  her 
bridesmaids  and  friends  to  the  chapel.  Another 
vehicle  of  a  similar  description,  the  pride  of  an- 
other wealthy  proprietor  in  the  vicinity,  had 
brought  the  bridegroom  and  some  of  his  friends ; 
barouches,  phaetons,  and  gigs  making  up  the  re- 
mainder of  the  imposing  train.  When  all  were 
assembled  the  message  was  dispatched  to  the 
minister,  who  was  awaiting  it  in  his  study,  that  the 
party  had  arrived,  and  all  things  were  ready  for 
the  marriage. 

On  entering  the  chapel  I  found  a  gathering  of 
forty  or  fifty  persons,  all  attired  in  the  gayest  cos- 
tume, the  lady  portion  of  the  company  especially 
glittering  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and 
as  many  golden  and  gilded  ornaments  as  they 
could  by  borrowing  or  other  means  press  into 
service  for  the  festive  occasion.  When  I  took  my 
place  within  the  communion  rails  they  gathered 
around  the  youthful  couple  who  were  to  be  the 
principal  actors  in  the  ceremony,  standing  in  the 


534         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

center,  immediately  in  front  of  me.  Both  of  them 
exhibited  a  complexion  of  the  purest  jet,  but  regu- 
lar and  symmetrical  features,  showing  how  power- 
ful is  the  effect  of  advancing  intelligence  in  modi- 
fying the  expression  of  "  the  human  face  divine." 
Many  of  the  negroes  in  the  British  colonies,  under 
the  ameliorating  influences  of  freedom,  are  be- 
coming assimilated  in  their  features  to  the  Euro- 
pean type.  The  broad,  flat  nose  becomes  less 
broad  and  flat  in  the  next  generation,  and  the 
thick,  prominent  lip  becomes  more  thin  and  less 
prominent.  It  is  by  no  means  uncommon  to  find 
really  handsome  specimens  of  both  sexes,  graceful 
in  face  and  figure,  and,  though  black,  yet  comely. 
Such  were  the  pair  I  was  called  upon  to  unite  in 
matrimonial  bonds. 

The  bride  was  very  tastefully  robed  in  purest 
white,  with  abundance  of  ribbon  adorning,  and  a 
fashionable  bonnet,  surmounted  by  the  significant 
orange-flower  wreath.  Through  the  thin  texture  of 
the  elaborate  bridal  vail  could  be  seen  the  pleas- 
ant-looking, youthful,  sable  countenance,  exhibit- 
ing a  slight,  but  only  a  slight,  degree  of  the  African 
type  of  feature,  and  radiant,  when  the  vail  was 
thrown  back,  with  the  happiness  which  should 
always  attend  upon  the  heaven-instituted  cere- 
monial that  is  intended  by  its  divine  Author  to 
be  a  source  of  increasing  joy  and  happiness  "o  the 
human  race.  A  rich,  gold  chain,  with  brooch, 
ear-rings,  and  bracelets,  graced  the  person  of  the 
bride,  lent  for  the  occasion  by  the  mistress  whose 
house  she  was  leaving  for  the  more  humble  roof 


The  Wedding.  535 

of  her  future  husband,  and  whose  favor  she  had 
earned  by  faithful  and  respectful  service.     By  the 
side  of  the  pretty-looking,  blooming  bride  stood 
the  young  bridegroom,  in  a  handsome  suit  of  cloth, 
excepting  the  fine  white  vest,  always  deemed  the 
most  appropriate  for  the  gentleman's  bridal  cos- 
tume.    New  hat,  highly  polished  boots,  a  glittering 
white  silk  cravat,  and  spotless  kid  gloves,  com- 
pleted the  fitting-out  of  the  young  man  whose  dark 
face,  surmounted  by  a  carefully-dressed  crop  of 
woolly  hair,   showed  scarcely  any  traces  of  the 
stereotyped  African  nose  and  lips.      It  only  re- 
quired a  change  of  hue   to  exhibit  a  face  (with 
small,  regular,  symmetrical  features  adapted  to  a 
well-formed,  graceful,  muscular  person)  that  many 
a  wearer  of  a  coronet  would  rejoice  to  see  in  the 
heir  to  his  title  and  estates.     New  suits  of  broad- 
cloth, distinguishing  the  stronger  sex,  and  a  daz- 
zling array  of  muslins  and  bareges,  with  silk  stock- 
ings   and    colored    shoes,    feathers    and    artificial 
flowers,  gold  jewelry  and  white  kid  gloves,  with 
smiling  black  and  tawny  faces,  and  teeth  glitter- 
ing like  pearls,  among  the  softer  sex,  surrounded 
the   young   couple   behind  and   on    either  hand, 
constituting    altogether     a     somewhat     imposing 
spectacle. 

As  soon  as  the  bride  was  correctly  placed  at  the 
left  hand  of  her  future  lord,  and  the  three  or  four 
bridesmaids  had  been  arranged  in  position  to  ren- 
der the  service  required  of  them  during  the  cere- 
mony, we  proceeded  with  the  business  in  hand. 
First  of  all,  one  of  the  bridesmaids  adjusted  the 


536         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

flowing  vail  of  the  bride,  so  that  with  open  face  she 
might  utter  the  vows  of  fidelity,  love,  and  obedience ; 
while  another  proceeded,  at  my  request,  to  draw  off 
the  delicate  white  gloves,  that  with  one  hand  she 
might  respond  to  her  lover's  manly  grasp  when 
taking  her  over  to  himself,  and  on  the  other  receive 
the  golden  pledge  of  a  husband's  fidelity  and  love. 
A  short  time  sufficed  for  the  solemn  ceremonial 
that  united  them  in  unseverable  bonds,  making  of 
the  twain  one  flesh,  and  bringing  them  into  rela- 
tions that  should  materially  influence  the  destinies 
of  two  immortal  spirits  through  the  ages  of  eter- 
nity. No  frivolity  or  giggling  marked  the  pro- 
ceedings. A  more  becoming  propriety  could  not 
have  been  maintained  had  it  been  the  princely 
marriage  of  two  scions  of  royalty  in  the  cloistered 
abbey  of  Westminster  or  the  stately  chapel  of  St. 
James's  palace.  Devout  responses  were  given  to 
the  prayers  which  went  up  to  God  on  behalf  of 
the  youthful  pair,  the  nuptial  benediction  was 
pronounced,  and  they  stood  before  the  now  smil- 
ing crowd  of  relatives  and  friends  declared  in  the 
name  of  the  ever-blessed  Trinity  to  be  man  and 
wife.  Before  dismissing  the  assembly  I  thought  it 
right  to  address  a  few  remarks  to  the  newly-mar- 
ried pair  concerning  the  new  course  of  life  which 
lay  before  them,  and  the  best  way  of  avoiding  the 
shoals  and  rocks  upon  which  the  happiness  of 
multitudes  who  enter  the  marriage  state  is  so 
often  wrecked.  The  bride's  attention  I  directed 
to  the  Divine  admonition,  so  comprehensive,  yet 
so  natural  and  appropriate  :    "  Let  the  wife   see 


The  Wedding.  537 

that  she  reverence  her  husband  ;"  advising  her  to 
cultivate  those  habits  of  meekness  and  amiability 
and  submissive  love,  which  are  so  essential  on  the 
wife's  part  to  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  wed- 
ded life.  Then  turning  to  the  young  man,  who 
had  listened  with  earnest  gravity  and  smiling  ap- 
proval to  the  counsels  given  to  his  young  wife,  I 
reminded  him  of  the  apostle's  injunction,  that 
*'  the  husband  should  love  his  wife  even  as  him- 
self," always  treating  her  with  the  kind  and  loving 
consideration  and  tenderness  to  which  woman  is 
entitled  at  the  hands  of  man,  and  more  especially 
at  the  hands  of  him  to  whom  she  has  committed 
herself  with  all  her  heart's  best  love,  and  on  whom 
her  hopes  of  happiness  for  both  worlds  so  mate- 
rially depend.  I  was  emphatic  in  deprecating  as 
cowardly  and  unworthy  and  treacherous  the  man 
who,  with  his  consciousness  of  superior  strength, 
can  treat  a  trusting  wife,  a  loving  woman,  with  the 
harshness  and  cruelty  which  we  see  many  wives 
are  made  to  suffer  by  those  who  are  bound,  in  all 
honor  and  fidelity,  to  shield  them  as  far  as  possi- 
ble from  every  unkindly  blast  and  every  saddening 
influence,  from  whatever  quarter  it  may  come. 
The  young  man  looked  into  my  eyes  with  the 
greatest  earnestness  as  I  spoke  to  him,  now  and 
then  turning  a  loving,  smiling  glance  upon  his 
bride.  That  he  fully  understood  every  word  I 
addressed  to  him  I  could  perceive,  but  I  could 
scarcely  understand  the  expression  that  stole  over 
his  face  as  I  continued,  as  if  he  felt  some  degree 
of  difficulty  or  doubt  concerning  the  matter  I  was 


538         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

urging  upon  his  attention.  Perplexity  seemed  to 
be  the  feeling  that  was  working  in  his  mind,  and 
throwing  something  like  a  shadow  upon  his  coun- 
tenance. I  went  on  until  I  finished  what  I  had  to 
say  concerning  the  loving  regard  he  should  cher- 
ish toward  his  wife.  Then  my  gravity  was  over- 
powered and  put  to  flight  when  the  young  bride- 
groom, after  bestowing  a  somewhat  troubled  glance 
upon  the  white-robed  figure  beside  him,  lifted  his 
face  to  me,  and  said,  with  an  air  of  perplexed, 
amusing,  inimitable  simplicity,  "  But,  minister,  it 
she  don't  behave  well,  musn't  I  whip  she  .''  " 

I  was  so  taken  by  surprise  with  this  strange  in- 
quiry, that  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  feel 
grave  enough  to  give  a  suitable  reply.  Then,  of 
course,  I  told  him  that  in  the  case  of  little  chil- 
dren whipping  might  sometimes  be  requisite  and 
salutary,  but  that  in  the  case  of  a  wife  it  was  quite 
out  of  the  question ;  and  none  but  a  coward,  or  a 
man  of  brutal  habits,  would  lift  his  hands  to  strike 
a  feeble  woman ;  in  which  he  and  others  around 
seemed  smilingly  to  acquiesce.  We  then  pro- 
ceeded to  make  the  necessary  record  of  the  mar- 
riage, in  the  original  and  duplicate  registers,  to 
which  the  young  couple,  with  their  chosen  wit- 
nesses, appended  their  proper  signatures,  both 
being  able  to  write,  l^he  bridegroom  took  his 
smiling  bride  upon  his  arm,  and  at  the  head  of  the 
gay  and  glittering  party  walked  in  procession  to 
the  carriages.  These  drove  off  as  they  were  suc- 
cessively filled,  a  very  lively  and  imposing  cortege, 
conveying  the  numerous  guests  to  the  ample  feast 


The    Wedding.  539 

which,  through  the  savings  of  several  years,  had 
been  provided  by  the  young  couple  and  their 
friends  to  honor  the  nuptial  day. 

The  remembrance  of  that  marriage  has  often 
brought  a  smile  to  my  lips  as  I  have  thought  of  the 
bridegroom's  unlooked  for  inquiry,  and  the  sim- 
ple and  earnest  way  in  which  it  was  propounded. 
Several  years  after,  on  revisiting  the  neighbor- 
hood, the  young  husband,  an  industrious  carpenter, 
came  among  the  earliest  to  greet  me.  After  the 
usual  salutation,  I  said,  "  Well,  Joseph,  how  is  your 
wife  1  "  and  added,  with  a  smile  he  perfectly  un- 
derstood, "  I  hope  she  has  made  you  a  good  wife, 
and  behaves  well,  and  that  you  have  never  thought 
of  whipping  she."  Showing  a  handsome  set  of  the 
whitest  teeth,  he  laughingly  replied,  "  Him  quite 
well,  minister,  and  him  very  good  wife.  Him  no 
want  the  whip  at  all,  minister ;  and  after  what 
minister  say,  I  never  intend  to  whip  she." 


540         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XXVIII. 

The  Broken  Promise. 

Yet  still  where  whispers  the  small  voice  within. 
Heard  through  gain's  silence,  and  o'er  glory's  dia; 
Whatever  creed  be  taught,  or  land  be  trod, 
Man's  conscience  is  the  oracle  of  God. — Bykon. 

jOW  and  pray  unto  the  Lord."  It  is  bet- 
ter not  to  vow  than  to  leave  the  promise 
unfulfilled.  In  the  West  Indies,  as  in 
Churches  and  congregations  nearer  home,  many, 
especially  among  the  young,  become  subjects  of 
religious  impressions,  in  whom  they  never  ripen 
into  vital  godliness — the  sound,  experimental, 
practical  piety,  which  characterizes  the  true  Chris- 
tian. Various  influences  combine  to  check  the 
operations  of  Divine  grace,  and  in  them  the  good 
seed  of  the  kingdom  brings  forth  no  fruit  to  perfec- 
tion. The  outward  profession  is  maintained,  but 
when  the  day  of  trial  comes  and  the  test  is  applied 
to  them  they  are  found  wanting. 

Letitia  B.  was  a  person  of  this  class.  In  con- 
nection with  one  of  the  missionary  Churches  in 
the  island  of  Barbadoes  there  had  been  a  gracious 
awakening  and  revival  of  religion.  A  goodly 
number  of  persons  had  been  brought  to  Christ, 
and  made  wise  unto  salvation  through  faith  in 
his  blood.     Others  had  been  powerfully  wrought 


The  Broken  Promise.  541 

upon  ;  but  resting  short  of  conversion,  in  good  de- 
sires and  attention  to  outward  forms  and  means 
of  grace,  continued  strangers  to  the  blessedness 
of  those  whose  iniquity  is  forgiven  and  whose  sin 
is  covered,  and  to  the  soul-renewing  love  of  Christ 
shed  abroad  in  the  heart.  Of  the  latter  number 
was  Letitia  B.,  a  young  black  woman,  the  daughter 
of  pious  parents,  who  resided  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  had  been  for  some  years  upright,  consistent 
members  of  the  mission  Church.  Letitia  had 
learned  to  read,  and  was  a  young  woman  of  some 
intelligence  ;  but  being  of  graceful  form  and  pos- 
sessing good  features — comely  though  black — of 
which  she  was  by  no  means  unconscious,  she  gave 
herself  up  to  a  love  of  finery  and  excessive  adorn- 
ing which,  in  too  many  instances,  has  proved  a 
snare  and  a  hinderance  to  young  persons  in  her 
position  in  life. 

Whether  it  was  this  besetment  that  prevented 
Letitia  from  surrendering  herself  fully  to  Christ 
and  heartily  embracing  the  great  salvation  in  the 
day  of  gracious  visitation,  when  the  word  reached 
her  conscience,  and,  like  Felix,  she  trembled  be- 
fore God  and  felt  the  burden  of  her  sins  and  a 
desire  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  I  am  not 
able  to  say.  But  one  thing  is  certain,  that  while 
becoming  a  professor  of  religion,  and  a  regular 
attendant  upon  its  ordinances,  she  settled  down 
into  the  condition  of  one  who  desires,  without  ex- 
periencing, the  blessedness  of  pure  and  undefiled 
religion;  and  when  the  time  came  for  the  exercise 
of  self-denial  in  the  cause  of  Christ   she  failed  to 


542         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

exhibit  that  adherence  to  principle  and  duty  which 
the  occasion  required, 

The  erection  of  a  school-house,  and  other  im- 
provements, in  connection  with  the  Christian 
sanctuary  where  Letitia  was  accustomed  to  wor- 
ship, called  for  the  exercise  of  liberality  on  the 
part  of  the  congregation ;  and  many  of  them, 
though  in  straitened  and  difficult  circumstances, 
cheerfully  responded  to  the  call  made  upon 
them,  and  placed  their  humble  offerings  upon 
the  altar  which  sanctifies  every  gift.  Influenced 
by  the  example  of  those  around  her,  Letitia  came 
forward  with  apparent  cheerfulness,  and  requested 
that  her  name  might  be  entered  in  the  lists  of  con- 
tributors for  a  dollar,  which  she  was  not  prepared 
then  to  pay,  but  would  pay  in  a  short  time. 
Letitia  was  industrious,  occupying  herself  some- 
times as  a  domestic  servant,  and  at  others  in  those 
light  labors  in  the  field  in  which  women  and  girls 
were  accustomed  to  be  employed.  She  had  her 
own  cottage,  for  which  she  paid  only  a  small  sum 
for  ground  rent,  and  was  in  better  circumstances 
to  redeem  the  promise  she  had  voluntarily  made 
than  many  of  those  who  had,  in  a  self-denying 
spirit,  paid  up  all  they  had  engaged  to  contribute 
toward  the  building  of  the  school -house,  in  which 
the  juveniles  of  the  surrounding  neighborhood 
might  be  trained  in  both  secular  and  religious 
knowledge.  But  somehow  Letitia,  in  her  own  view 
of  the  case,  never  found  herself  able  to  pay  the 
promised  dollar.  Many  a  smart  new  dress  was 
exhibited  upon  Letitia's  well-formed  person,  and 


The  Broken  Promise.  543 

many  a  gay  new  ribbon  streamed  in  the  breeze. 
The  new  silk  mantle,  and  the  bonnet  of  newest 
fashion,  with  its  handsome  wreath  of  artificial 
flowers  on  Sundays,  and  the  brilliant  handkerchief 
of  many  colors  on  week  days,  displayed  the  taste 
of  the  dress-loving  Letitia  as  she  repaired  to  and 
occupied  her  place  in  the  house  of  God ;  but  still 
the  promised  dollar  remained  unpaid.  The 
school-house  and  the  other  additions  to  the 
stations  were  completed,  and  nearly  a  hundred 
children  during  the  week,  and  a  much  larger  num- 
ber on  the  Sabbath,  assembled  to  receive  those 
elements  of  learning  which  were  intended  to  fit 
them  for  acting  their  part  in  this  life  worthily,  and 
prepare  them  for  the  undying  joys  of  a  blissful 
hereafter;  and  Letitia  was  often  reminded  by 
the  officials  of  the  Church  of  the  debt  she  owed  to 
the  treasurer  :  still  the  promised  dollar  was  not 
paid. 

Several  years  had  passed,  and  I  was  expecting 
in  a  few  weeks  to  remove  to  another  and  distant 
scene  of  labor,  when  one  evening,  after  my  v-'eekly 
visit  to  the  school,  I  was  sitting  on  the  chapel  steps, 
occupying  with  a  book  the  interval  between  the 
dismissal  of  the  school  and  the  time  appointed  for 
the  usual  week-day  service.  My  attention  was 
suddenly  arrested  by  the  voice  of  distress  close  at 
hand,  and  turning  to  look  whence  it  came,  I  be- 
held Letitia,  weeping  and  sobbing  as  if  she  had  ex- 
perienced some  great  sorrow.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter, Letitia.'"  I  inquired.  "O  minister,"  she 
replied,  "  me  bin  rob,"  meaning  that  she  had  been 


544         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

plundered.  Then  she  went  on  to  inform  me,  as 
tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  and  sobs  frequently 
checked  her  utterance,  that  she  had  gone  to 
Bridgetown  on  the  preceding  day,  and  when  she 
returned  she  found  that  some  one  had  entered  her 
house  in  her  absence  and  broken  open  her  box, 
which  she  left  safely  locked  under  her  bed,  and 
had  carried  off  some  of  her  clothes  and  all  her 
money.  "  I  am  sorry  for  your  loss,  Letitia,"  I 
said.  "  I  dare  say  the  loss  of  your  clothes  will  be 
a  great  trouble ;  but  as  you  have  never,  in  all 
these  years,  been  rich  enough  to  pay  the  dollar 
you  promised  toward  building  the  school,  your  loss 
in  money  cannot  be  very  great."  "  O  minister,"  she 
said,  "  I  wish  I  had  given  you  that  dollar,  and  then, 
perhaps,  this  trouble  would  not  have  come  upon 
me;  me  very  wrong,  minister,  not  to  pay  the 
dollar." 

"  I  think  with  you,  Letitia,  that  you  have  been 
very  wrong  not  to  fulfill  your  promise,  and  to 
spend  so  much  money  as  you  must  have  done  upon 
expensive  articles  of  dress,  scarcely  becoming  one 
in  your  condition  of  life,  I  have  often  looked 
upon  your  gay,  flaunting  attire  with  pain  and  sor- 
row. If  you  have  lost  only  some  of  your  useless 
finery  I  do  not  think  there  is  much  cause  for  you 
to  break  your  heart  about  it." 

*'  O,  but  minister !  dem  take  away  all  my 
money."  "  Well,  what  amount  had  you  in  your 
box  ?  "  I  inquired,  expecting  to  hear  her  name 
some  trifling  sum.  "  Dem  rob  me  of  eighty-three 
dollars,  minister,"  a  sum  equal,  in  sterling  money 


The  Br  ok  €71  Promise.  545 

to  seventeen  pounds  fifteen  shillings  and  tenpence. 
Surprised  to  hear  that  she  was  in  possession  of 
such  a  sum  after  lavishing  so  much  as  I  knew  she 
must  have  done  on  the  decoration  of  her  person, 
I  asked  her  how  she  had  managed  to  save  so  much. 
Then  she  informed  me  that  she  had  reared  a  cow, 
and  sold  it  for  forty  dollars,  as  it  was  a  good  one 
for  yielding  milk  ;  and  she  had  sold  two  calves 
and  several  pigs  that  she  had  reared. 

In  this  way  she  had,  in  the  course  of  several  years, 
amassed  the  sum  specified,  besides  the  amount 
spent  in  articles  of  dress,  and  three  dollars  which 
she  had  withdrawn  from  her  store  before  taking 
her  departure  to  the  city,  for  the  purpose  of  add- 
ing something  to  her  cherished  store  of  finery. 
Poor  Letitia  wept  very  bitterly  as  I  pointed  out  to 
her  the  dissimulation  and  wrong  of  which  she  had 
been  guilty  ;  keeping  back  from  the  fulfillment  of 
the  promise  she  had  given,  while  for  years  she  had 
a  considerable  sum  of  money  hoarded  in  her  box, 
from  which  she  might  have  taken  the  dollar  and 
scarcely  have  missed  it.  I  agreed  with  her,  that 
if  she  had  done  what  was  right  and  just  when  she 
had  it  in  her  power  to  do  so,  the  Lord,  who 
ordereth  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  and  with- 
out whose  permission  not  a  sparrow  falleth  to  the 
ground,  might  not  have  allowed  this  great  loss  to 
come  upon  her. 

I  further  pointed  out  to  her  that  she  had  lost 
all  her  money,  and  still  she  owed  the  dollar  which 
she  had  promised  to  the  Church.  The  weeping 
girl  declared  that  she  would  pay  it  as  soon  as  she 


54^    Romance  Without  Fiction. 

possibly  could.  She  had  not  done  so  when  I 
transferred  my  charge  in  that  island  to  a  succes- 
sor, for  I  do  not  think  she  was  in  circumstances 
to  do  so.  Whether  she  has  since  paid  it  I  am  not 
able  to  say ;  but  I  believe  Letitia  went  away  that 
evening  more  alive  than  she  had  ever  been  to  the 
evil  of  covetousness,  and  more  deeply  impressed 
with  the  force  of  those  words  of  inspired  wisdom 
of  which  I  reminded  her :  "  There  is  that  scatter- 
eth,  and  yet  increaseth;  and  there  is  that  with- 
holdeth  more  than  is  meet,  and  it  tendeth  to 
poverty." 


The  Murdered  Child.  547 


XXIX. 

The  Murdered  Child. 

The  voice  of  blood 
Passes  heaven's  gates,  ev'n  ere  the  crimson  flood 
Sinks  through  the  greensward ! — Mes.  Hemans. 

tHROUGH  the  low,  flat  colony  of  British 
Guiana,  on  the  northern  coast  of  South 
America,  several  broad,  majestic  rivers  flow 
into  the  ocean,  tinging  its  waters,  to  a  distance  of 
nearly  a  hundred  miles,  with  the  vast  quantities 
of  light,  earthy  matter  they  bear  down  in  their 
bosoms  from  the  far  interior  of  the  wide-stretching 
continent.  The  Essequibo,  which  separates  the 
county  to  which  it  gives  its  name  from  the  neigh- 
boring county  of  Demerara,  is  more  than  twenty 
miles  wide  upon  the  coast,  where  travelers  from 
the  one  county  to  the  other  have  to  cross  it.  It 
has  several  islands  of  considerable  extent  at  its 
mouth;  one  of  them,  scarcely  under  cultivation 
at  all,  containing  as  large  an  area  as  the  produc- 
tive island  of  Barbadoes,  which  exports  some  years 
from  sixty  to  seventy  thousand  hogsheads  of  sugar. 
Three  of  these  mighty  streams  flow  through  the 
colony  —  the  Essequibo,  the  Demerara,  and  the 
Berbice — each  giving  its  name  to  a  division  of 
the  "magnificent  province,"  as  it  has  not  unaptly 
been  designated. 

35 


54^         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Between  these  rivers  are  other  streams,  which 
are  called  creeks,  some  of  them  as  wide  as  the 
Thames  at  London.  Unlike  the  thick  and  muddy- 
water  of  the  rivers,  that  in  the  creeks  is  transpar- 
ent, though  dark  as  strong,  clear  coffee,  and  soft 
and  pleasant  to  the  taste.  The  creeks  receive  the 
drainings  of  the  vast  savannas  and  wide-spreading 
forests  of  the  continent  after  the  rains  that  fall  in 
those  equatorial  regions,  and  the  water,  being 
stained  by  the  roots  and  herbage  with  which  it  is 
brought  in  contact,  receives  the  dark  tinge  that 
makes  it  appear,  when  gathered  in  a  body,  almost 
black.  The  scenery  on  the  creeks  is  grand  and 
picturesque  in  the  extreme.  The  dark,  clear, 
placid  waters  form  a  perfect  mirror,  reflecting 
every  object  on  the  banks  and  overhead  so  viv- 
idly and  clearly  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  at 
a  short  distance  where  the  shadow  and  the  sub- 
stance meet.  The  massive  forest  trees  on  either 
side,  the  growth  of  many  centuries,  frequently  in- 
termingle their  vast  umbrageous  branches  eighty 
or  a  hundred  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  creek, 
forming  a  beautiful  archway  for  miles,  and  afford- 
ing to  the  traveler  a  perfect  screen  from  the 
scorching  rays  of  the  vertical  sun  ;  and  as  he  casts 
his  eyes  over  the  edge  of  the  canoe  into  the  dark, 
transparent  stream,  he  seems  to  be  looking  down, 
through  a  forest  of  leaves  and  branches,  into  un- 
fathomable depths, 

"  Tinged  with  a  blue  of  heavenly  dye, 
And  starr'd  with  sparkling'gold." 


The  Murdered  Child.  549 

The  perfection  of  sylvan  beauty  and  grandeur 
is  to  be  met  with  in  rowing  or  paddling  on  the 
creeks  in  the  interior  of  Guiana.  The  water  is 
smooth  as  glass,  unmarked  by  a  ripple,  except 
where  a  monster  alligator,  disturbed  in  his  slum- 
bers, rolls  lazily  from  the  bank  with  a  heavy 
plunge  into  his  favorite  element ;  or  an  immense 
camoodie  snake  (the  South  American  boa-con- 
strictor) is  seen  pursuing  his  sinuous  course,  near 
the  surface,  from  one  bank  to  the  other.  In  those 
secluded  retreats  these  creatures  abound  in  the 
waters,  and,  being  seldom  molested,  grow  to  for- 
midable proportions.  Numerous  birds  of  splendid 
plumage  may  be  seen  flitting  from  tree  to  tree, 
while  multitudes  of  butterflies  and  moths,  of  un- 
usual size,  and  bright  with  all  the  hues  of  the 
rainbow,  pursue  their  erratic  course.  Right  over- 
head, not  unfrequently,  troops  of  baboons  and 
monkeys  are  to  be  seen  gamboling  amid  the  lofty 
branches,  secure  from  the  ravenous  creatures  of 
various  kinds  that  roam  the  forest  underneath 
them  in  search  of  prey.  Flocks  of  macaws,  glit- 
tering in  varied  dazzling  colors,  with  their  hoarse 
screamings,  and  immense  multitudes  of  parrots, 
generally  sweeping  through  the  air  in  pairs,  shriek- 
ing their  peculiar  monotone,  disturb  the  deep 
silence  of  the  forest  glades. 

Occasionally  the  traveler  meets  a  fleet  of  Indian 
corioles,  (or  canoes,)  filled  with  the  swarthy  long- 
haired aborigines  of  the  land,  the  chief  men,  it 
may  be,  dignified  with  the  splendors  of  a  cotton 
shirt;  but  all  the  rest,  men,  women,  and  children, 


#c 


Romance  Without  Fiction, 


utterly  nude,  or  with  only  an  apron  of  a  few  inches 
square  to  serve  as  an  apology  for  dress.  These 
wild  children  of  the  forest  are  paddling  down  to 
the  cultivated  portions  of  the  colony  on  the  coast 
to  dispose  of  the  grass  and  cotton  hammocks,  bas- 
kets, and  fans  which  they  have  learned  to  manu- 
facture, or  to  barter  the  casareep,  obtained  from 
the  poisonous  cassava,  for  the  gunpowder  and  lead 
they  have  learned  to  use  in  the  chase.  The  ab- 
rupt appearance  of  these  savage  denizens  of  the 
far-stretching  South  American  wilds  awakens  pain- 
ful emotions  in  the  breast  of  the  Christian  traveler, 
who  remembers  the  sad  fate  of  the  Indians  found 
in  the  West  Indies  by  Columbus.  Numerous 
tribes  and  nations  of  the  aborigines  are  scattered 
over  this  vast  continent,  retaining  unbroken  their 
barbarous  habits,  and  scarcely  reached  at  all  by 
the  civilizing  and  elevating  influences  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

On  the  smaller  creeks,  such  as  the  Madowinie 
and  the  Camoonie,  which  flow  into  the  Demerara 
river,  the  canoe  of  the  traveler  pushes  i^;s  way 
through  vast  beds  of  the  magnificent  Victoria  Regia, 
whose  broad,  bright  green  leaves  lie  placidly  float- 
ing upon  the  surface  of  the  stream,  together  with 
the  splendid  white  flower  that  blooms  upon  it, 
whose  slender  stalk,  always  proportioned  to  the 
depth  of  the  water,  is  just  of  sufficient  length  to 
permit  its  pure  graceful  beauty  to  repose  on  the 
bosom  of  the  dark  water  which  is  its  natural  rest- 
ing place. 

On  the  banks  of  one  of  the  largest  of  these 


The  Murdered  Child.  551 

darkly  flowing  creeks,  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  sea,  there  is  a  large  cattle  farm,  named  Broom- 
lands,  occupied  by  a  colored  gentleman  and  his 
family,  where  the  ministers  of  Christ,  no  matter  of 
what  denomination,  always  find  a  cheerful  wel- 
come, and  receive  abundant  hospitality.  The 
farm  itself  is  of  large  extent,  devoted  to  the  rear- 
ing of  horned  stock,  of  which  there  are  fourteen 
or  fifteen  hundred  belonging  to  it.  These  graze, 
in  common  with  the  stock  of  many  other  farms, 
on  the  immense  savannas  which,  lik'e  the  prairies 
of  the  northern  continent  before  the  white  man 
invaded  their  solitude,  lie  embosomed  in  the  dense 
forests  stretching  across  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific  coast.  The  pr(?wling  tiger  of  South  Amer- 
ica not  unfrequently  makes  a  descent  upon  th^se 
herds  w-hen  driven  by  hunger  to  approach  the 
coast,  and  commits  great  depredations,  until  the 
inhabitants  rise  and  hunt  him  to  his  death.  The 
formidable  alligator  and  the  boa-constrictor  lurk- 
ing in  the  trenches  and  canals  by  which  the  farms 
are  intersected  in  all  directions,  to  serve  the  two- 
fold purpose  of  road  and  drainage,  make  sad  havoc 
among  the  smaller  stock,  the  pigs  and  goats  and 
poultry  with  which  these  farms  abound. 

The  farm-house  at  Broomlands  is  pleasantly 
situated,  and  surrounded  by  meadows.  These  are 
divided,  not  by  walls  or  fences,  but  b\  deep 
trenches  filled  with  water,  and  with  banks  consid- 
erably raised,  commonly  called  dams,  to  prevent 
the  trenches  overflowing  and  covering  the  mead- 
ows in  the  wet  seasons.     Sporting  upon  low-lying 


552        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

fields  are  often  to  be  seen  the  stork,  and  the  crane, 
and  the  flamingo,  with  numerous  flocks  of  other 
wild  fowl,  that  delight  in  marshy  or  watery  places, 
many  of  them  exhibiting  a  magnificent  plumage. 

Sometimes,  as  the  family  sit  in  the  cool,  broad 
piazza  of  the  farm-house  enjoying  the  balmy 
evening  breeze,  the  loud  screaming  of  an  unfortu- 
nate pig,  at  a  little  distance,  announces  that  while 
wandering  on  the  dam,  a  monster  boa-constrictor, 
stealing  softly  and  silently  from  the  water,  has 
pounced  upon  the  luckless  swine,  and  his  bones 
are  being  crushed  within  the  powerful  folds  of  the 
serpent,  which,  with  almost  the  rapidity  of  light- 
ning, has  enwrapped  him  in  his  fatal  coils.  At 
another  time,  the  loud  angry  splashing  of  the  water 
not  far  off  tells  of  a  fierce  conflict  between  an 
alligator  and  a  camoodie  snake,  which  have  met 
while  prowling  in  the  trenches  of  the  farm  in  search 
of  prey. 

On  the  writer's  first  visit  to  the  farm,  in  1861,  he 
received  the  present  of  a  snake's  skin,  about 
twenty  feet  in  length,  which  he  found  nailed  up  to 
dry  on  one  of  the  out-buildings.  A  few  days 
before,  this  creature  had  seized  a  hog  in  its  deadly 
embrace  on  one  of  the  dams  near  the  house.  The 
proprietor,  hearing  the  scream  of  the  dying  animal, 
and  understanding  the  cause,  took  his  rifle,  and 
hastening  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  pro- 
ceeded, found  the  serpent  in  the  act  of  quietly 
crushing  his  victim  to  death.  With  its  prey  in  its 
coils  the  serpent  is  comparatively  harmless  and 
defenseless.     So  that,  stepping  up  near  to  the  head 


The  Murdered  Child.  553 

» 

of  the  monster,  he  sent  a  rifle  ball  through  its  head, 
too  late,  however,  to  save  the  unfortunate  pig, 
which  had  been  crushed  out  of  all  shape  by  its 
terrible  destroyer.  At  a  subsequent  visit,  while 
sitting,  on  a  pleasant  afternoon,  in  the  piazza,  the 
water  in  one  of  the  broader  trenches  at  a  little  dis- 
tance suddenly  became  greatly  agitated.  On  pro- 
ceeding to  the  spot  it  was  found  that  a  deadly 
struggle  was  going  on  between  an  alligator  and  a 
boa-constrictor,  both  of  large  size.  The  conflict 
was  fierce,  but  not  protracted.  It  terminated 
shortly  after  we  reached  the  place.  The  muddy 
condition  of  the  water  rendered  it  difficult  to  as- 
certain which  was  the  victor ;  but  probably  it  was 
the  serpent,  as  they  finally  sunk  out  of  sight,  the 
alligator  firmly  held,  and  seemingly  almost  help- 
less, in  the  folds  of  its  powerful  enemy. 

The  farm,  under  the  skillful  management  of  Mr. 
J.,  its  proprietor,  abounds  with  all  that  can  con- 
tribute to  the  comfort  of  a  family,  and  is  a  source 
of  considerable  wealth.  When  it  came  into  the 
hands  of  its  present  owner  it  had,  through  neglect 
and  want  of  energetic  management,  become  almost 
a  wilderness,  and  the  large  herds  of  cattle  that  had 
formerly  grazed  in  its  meadows  were  fast  dwindling 
away.  After  the  death  of  its  former  proprietor,  a 
Dutchman,  the  farm  passed  into  the  hands  of  his 
widow,  who  did  the  best  she  could  with  it  and  the 
family  of  small  fatherless  children  that  were  left  to 
her  care.  But  those  upon  whom  she  relied  in  her 
widowhood  afforded  her  little  effectual  aid  or  coun- 
sel, and  the  estate,  a  valuable  one  in  itself,  was 


554         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

fast  sinking  to  ruin.  The  trenches,  left  to  them- 
selves, and  never  cleaned  out  to  allow  of  free 
drainage  of  the  land,  were  becoming  choked  up ; 
and  the  fine  meadows,  soon  covered  with  bush 
where  vegetation  is  so  rank,  were  rapidly  changing 
into  a  vast  morass.  The  buildings  of  the  farm,  all 
of  wood,  were  becoming  dilapidated  through  neg- 
lect of  needful  repairs,  or  falling  into  ruin  through 
the  destructive  ravages  of  the  wood  ant.  A  short 
time  would  have  s-een  the  widow  and  family  with- 
out a  home;  and,  though  surrounded  with 
hundreds  of  acres  of  the  most  fertile  land  in 
the  world,  sunk  in  poverty  and  distress.  At 
this  juncture  she  wisely  determined  to  commit 
herself  and  children  to  the  care  of  the  husband  a 
gracious  Providence  threw  in  her  way ;  and,  under 
the  judicious  management  of  Mr.  J.,  the  wilderness 
became  an  earthly  paradise,  the  abode  of  peace 
and  piety,  and  comfort  and  plenty. 

A  new,  substantial,  well-built  house  of  three 
stories,  commodious  and  furnished  with  all  the 
appliances  of  elegant  comfort,  rose  upon  the  site 
of  the  old  decayed  farm-dwelling,  where  daily  the 
sweet  sounds  of  the  morning  and  evening  song  of 
praise,  with  a  melodeon  accompaniment,  told  of 
the  God-fearing  family  and  the  domestic  altar ; 
and  the  lively  tunes  of  the  well-tuned  piano  spoke 
of  religious  cheerfulness  dispelling  the  gloom  of 
loneliness,  and  testifying  that  wisdom's  ways  are 
every-where  ways  of  pleasantness.  With  the 
trenches  cleared,  and  the  meadows  drained,  and 
fields  and  plantain  walks  brought  into  good  culti- 


The  Murdered  Child.  555 

vation,  the  farm,  under  the  skillful  care  and  far- 
seeing  naanagement  of  its  new  master,  soon  became 
one  of  the  most  productive  and  valuable  on  the 
coast.  Those  who  wish  to  enjoy  all  kinds  of  trop- 
ical fruit,  and  vegetables  of  the  finest  quality,  and 
in  the  highest  state  of  perfection,  may  find  them 
at  Broomlands.  There,  too,  under  the  watchful 
care  of  the  matron  of  the  farm,  notwithstanding 
the  considerable  levy  made  upon  her  young  broods 
by  snakes  and  alligators,  some  of  the  finest  com- 
mon poultry,  ducks  and  geese  and  turkeys  and 
guinea  fowl,  are  reared  that  are  produced  in  the 
colony.  Turtle,  and  fresh  and  salt  water  fish, 
venison,  and  varieties  of  wild  fowl,  are  easily  pro- 
curable ;  and  honey  and  sugar  and  milk  abound. 
Fine  coffee  grows  upon  the  farm,  and  thousands  of 
cocoa-nut  trees,  valuable  as  beautiful,  planted  with 
judicious  foresight  by  the  present  owner,  are  grow- 
ing up  about  the  farm,  to  lend  to  it  additional 
grace  and  beauty,  and  yield  in  a  few  years  an 
ample  revenue,  each  tree  puttmg  forth  its  fruit 
about  every  month,  being  calculated  to  yield 
at  least  five  dollars  per  annum  to  its  owner. 
Bunches  of  luscious  grapes,  inclosed  in  muslin 
bags  to  protect  them  from  the  marabunta  wasp 
and  the  numerous  flocks  of  birds  that  love  to 
feast  upon  them,  hang  from  a  capacious  grape- 
arbor  in  the  well-inclosed  garden.  And  here  are 
to  be  found,  throughout  the  whole  year  of  per- 
petual summer,  in  full  bloom,  many  varieties  of 
rare  plants  and  flowers  native  to  this  equatorial 
region,  mingling  with  European  exotics,  that,  with 


5S6        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

kindliness  equal  to  their  sweetness  and  beauty, 
have  adapted  themselves  to  the  genial  climate,  and 
flourish  luxuriantly. 

Many  times  have  I  visited  this  pleasant  place 
and  pleasant  family ;  sometimes  to  preach,  or  to 
attend  the  missionary  meeting,  in  the  village  chapel 
on  the  coast,  about  a  mile  distant  from  the  farm, 
where  the  Mahaicony  creek  discharges  its  black 
mass  of  waters  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  In  the 
neat  sanctuary,  erected  and  kept  in  repair  largely 
through  the  liberality  of  the  Broomlands  family, 
Mr.  J.  himself,  in  the  absence  of  the  circuit  minis- 
ter, often  officiates,  in  the  capacity  of  local 
preacher,  an  office  for  which  he  is  qualified  by  the 
possession  of  a  well-cultured  mind  and  extensive 
reading.  At  other  times  the  object  of  my  pleas- 
ant visits  has  been  to  avail  myself  of  a  few  days' 
relaxation  from  the  exhaustive  toil  of  a  station 
near  the  equator,  and  enjoy  the  delights  of  a  pic- 
nic excursion  in  the  Broomlands'  large  boat,  built 
expressly  for  such  purposes,  up  the  wide  creek, 
ninety  or  a  hundred  miles  into  the  interior.  Here, 
in  the  primeval  forest,  in  huts  reared  under  the 
shade  of  the  giant  trees,  spreading  their  lowest 
branches  sixty  or  eighty  feet  above  us,  we  could 
sling  our  hammocks  and  rest  with  little  fear  that 
prowling  tigers  or  dangerous  serpents  would  ven- 
ture within  the  circle  of  fires  kept  constantly  burn- 
ing during  the  darkness  all  around  our  encamp- 
ment. 

Unbounded  kindness  and  hospitality  always 
awaited    the    minister    of  Christ    at   Broomlands, 


The  Murdered  Child.  557 

heightened  by  the  gentlemanly  courtesy  of  the 
master  of  the  house,  and  the  Christian  sweetness 
and  excellent  housewifery  of  his  partner,  whose 
kind  heart  ever  finds  its  chief  joy  in  ministering 
comfort  and  happiness  to  others.  Both  of  them, 
by  a  swarthy  complexion,  show  that  the  blood  of 
Africa,  or  of  the  aboriginal  Indians,  flows  in  their 
veins,  and,  by  the  constant  exhibition  of  those 
amiable  and  noble  qualities  which  impart  luster 
to  social  life,  prove  that  a  white  skin  is  not  essen- 
tial to  the  highest  degrees  and  development  of 
moral  excellence. 

Mrs.  J.'s  first  family,  two  boys  and  two  girls, 
have,  through  the  improvement  of  the  estate  by  a 
conscientious  husband  and  stepfather,  been  fa- 
vored with  superior  educational  advantages.  One 
of  the  boys,  before  reaching  ripe  manhood,  has 
sunk  to  the  grave,  and  one  of  the  girls  has  been 
married  to  a  medical  practitioner.  Two  younger 
children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  the  fruit  of  the  second 
marriage,  enliven  this  cheerful  Christian  home, 
which  exerts  an  influence  for  good  upon  many 
homes  of  the  surrounding  neighborhood. 

But  dark  is  the  cloud  of  sorrow,  though  unseen, 
which  is  about  to  break  upon  this  peaceful,  pros- 
perous homestead,  and  extinguish  some  of  the 
best  and  brightest  hopes  of  the  family.  The  chil- 
dren are  respectively  about  nine  and  seven  years 
of  age.  Upon  the  youngest,  a  bright,  intelligent 
boy  of  indomitable  activity  and  energy,  are  con- 
centrated the  most  precious  hopes  of  both  parents. 
They  delight  in  the  thought  that,  with  the  aid  of 


558         Romance  Without  Fiction, 

that  liberal  education  they  are  preparing  to  bestow 
upon  him,  he  will,  in  due  time,  become  a  well- 
qualified  agent  for  the  Lord's  service  in  preaching 
the  ever-blessed  Gospel,  a  work  to  which  his  young 
mind,  already  moved  by  gracious  impulses,  seems 
to  have  a  bent  from  the  earliest  days  of  its  dawn- 
ing intelligence.  How  would  those  parent  hearts 
be  riven  with  anguish  could  they  foresee  the  trag- 
edy that  is  to  desolate  and  blast  that  pleasing 
prospect ! 

There  is  among  the  servants  of  the  household 
a  low-browed,  ill-favored  negro  girl,  bearing  the 
name  of  Molly  James,  whose  countenance  is  the 
index  of  a  sullen,  malignant  disposition.  The 
vicious  character  of  the  girl  has  been  her  chief 
recommendation  to  the  kind,  loving  heart  of  the 
matron  at  the  head  of  the  house,  who  has  taken 
her  into  employment  from  a  neighboring  cottage, 
solely  with  the  view  of  being  able  to  do  her  good, 
by  bringing  the  evil-minded  one  under  the  soften- 
ing, ameliorating  influences  that  pervade  a  Chris- 
tian household,  and  imparting  to  her  the  benefit  of 
religious  instruction  and  training.  Her  chief  oc- 
cupation in  the  family  of  her  benefactress  is  to 
perform  such  little  offices  for  the  children  as  she 
is  capable  of,  and  much  of  her  time  is  spent  in 
sharing  their  sports.  Molly  is  not  only  observed 
to  be  of  an  unamiable,  ferocious  disposition,  but 
she  is  an  incorrigible  pilferer,  and  though  supplied 
with  food  without  stint,  takes  every  opportunity  of 
laying  her  mistress's  more  private  stores  of  dain- 
ties under  contribution. 


The  Murdered  Child.  559 

The  little  Eddy,  the  pride  and  darling  of  the 
house,  has  more  than  once  informed  his  mother  of 
these  depredations  on  the  part  of  Molly,  commit- 
ted when  he  Avas  present,  and  thus  awakened  against 
himself  on  her  part  a  strongly  vindictive  feeling; 
and  when  in  rough  play  Molly,  in  common  with  his 
own  sister,  has  been  somewhat  more  rudely  han- 
dled by  the  romping,  lively  boy  than  she  approved, 
she  has  been  observed  casting  toward  him  looks 
of  cutting,  bitter  hatred,  and  heard  to  mutter  words 
that  savored  of  revenge.  But  none  for  a  moment 
dreamed  of  the  deadly  purposes  secretly  cherished 
in  her  breast. 

It  is  a  pleasant  day  in  August,  1864,  like  many 
that  have  preceded  it,  and  in  a  cloudless  sky  the 
sun  is  declining  to  the  west,  his  slanting  rays,  de- 
prived of  much  of  their  fierceness,  making  exer- 
cise in  the  open  air  a  source  of  enjoyment.  It  is 
about  five  o'clock  when  the  girl  Molly  is  seen 
passmg  through  the  back  gate  leading  to  the 
stock  pen.  A  few  minutes  afterward  Eddy,  in 
wild  hilarity,  is  also  seen  scampering  in  the  same 
direction,  with  his  toy  whip  flourishing  in  his 
hand.  And  that  is  the  last  that  is  seen  of  him  in 
life,  except  by  his  murderer,  for  shortly  afterward, 
probably  only  a  few  brief  minutes,  that  vigorous, 
promising  young  life  is  extinguished  suddenly  by 
a  violent  death. 

When  the  shades  of  the  evening  are  closing  in 
Eddy  is  called  for  at  the  tea  table,  but  the  boy  is 
nowhere  to  be  found.  His  name  is  loudly  shouted 
in  all  directions  by  the  domestics,  and  there  is.  no 


56o         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

response;  but  Molly  is  seen  approaching  from  one 
of  the  trenches  behind  the  house  with  her  clothes 
all  wet,  as  if  she  had  been  in  the  trench,  or  her 
frock  had  been  newly  washed.  On  being  ques- 
tioned about  the  child,  she  declares  that  she  does 
not  know  where  he  is,  but  she  had  seen  him  not 
long  before  passing  through  the  front  gate.  Seri- 
ous alarm  is  now  excited  in  the  family  by  the 
unaccountable  disappearance  of  the  child,  and 
persons  are  sent  to  examine  the  trenches  in  the 
direction  whither  Molly  reports  him  to  have  gone. 
Some  laborers  at  work  about  the  front  gate  are 
questioned,  and  they  all  affirm  that  they  have  not 
seen  him,  and  that  he  cannot  have  passed  that 
way.  Attention  is  then  directed  to  the  back  of 
the  house,  and  after  a  short  search,  a  loud,  bitter 
outcry  announces  that  some  painful  discovery  has 
been  made.  The  agonized  parents  rush  to  the 
spot,  and  there,  overwhelmed  with  horror,  they 
behold  the  dead  body  of  their  child  near  the  pig 
pen,  stretched  upon  some  tall  grass  growing  in  an 
old  filled  up  trench.  He  is  lying  upon  his  back, 
and  except  the  face,  which  appears  to  have  been 
washed,  covered  with  black  mud  of  a  kind  not  at 
all  corresponding  with  the  spot  on  which  the  body 
has  been  found.  After  the  lifeless  form  has  been 
removed  to  the  house,  and  a  medical  man  sent  for, 
further  examination  of  the  scene  of  death  shows  a 
trail  along  which  the  body  has  been  dragged  for 
some  distance,  and  ending  at  the  place  where  it  is 
too  evident  the  cruel  deed  has  been  done,  and  the 
child  hurled  out  of  life  by  violent  and  relentless 


The  Murdered  Child.  561 

hands.  There,  in  a  spot  covered  with  thick  black 
mud,  the  partly  dried,  offensive  drainings  of  the 
pig-pen,  as  the  marks  clearly  show,  the  poor  boy 
has  breathed  out  his  young  life  in  agony  under  the 
pressure  of  malignant  cruelty.  There  is  no  wound 
upon  the  tender  body,  but  bruised  marks  about 
the  head.  He  has  died  from  suffocation,  and  this 
effect  could  only  have  been  produced  by  the  face 
having  been  violently  pressed  down  in  the  foul, 
putrid  mud,  so  as  to  prevent  respiration  until  all 
the  functions  of  life  were  stopped. 

Who  can  describe  the  grief  of  the  heart-stricken 
parents,  the  overwhelming  anguish  which  crushes 
them  down  to  find  their  precious  child,  the  dar- 
ling of  the  house,  so  bright  and  gay  and  sportive, 
so  full  of  promise  in  the  vigor  of  his  physical  and 
mental  development,  thus  snatched  in  a  moment 
from  their  embraces,  and  in  a  manner  so  revolting 
and  so  cruel .''  Ah,  it  may  be  there  has  been  too 
much  of  idolatry  in  the  absorbing  love  they  have 
lavished  upon  the  handsome  boy.  Or  He,  whose 
all-searching  eye  looks  through  the  future,  and 
sees  all  possibilities,  and  all  tendencies  and  re- 
sults, may  have  seen  how  those  fine  qualities  of 
the  child,  which  they  admired  and  loved  so  ar- 
dently, would  become  ruinous  snares  and  sources 
of  danger  in  the  pathway  of  life,  and  in  answer  to 
their  prayers  for  the  eternal  welfare  of  the  object 
of  their  solicitude,  and  in  very  tenderness  and  love 
to  him  and  them,  he  may  have  taken  him  away 
from  the  evil  to  come.  What  we  know  not  now 
we    shall    know   hereafter.       But    who   can    have 


562         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

done  the  wicked  deed  ?  It  is  not,  alas  !  difificult 
to  conjecture.  Who  but  the  sullen,  vicious  girl, 
whose  dark,  vindictive  scowls  and  muttered  threats 
have  been,  unhappily,  too  little  regarded.?  Who 
but  she  in  whose  company  the  boy  was  last  seen, 
and  who  endeavored  to  mislead  those  who  were  in 
search  of  him  when  he  was  first  missed  ?  It  is 
now  remembered  that  Molly  James  was  seen  com- 
ing from  the  trench,  not  far  from  the  place  where 
the  body  was  discovered,  as  soon  as  the  alarm  was 
given.  The  wet  frock,  also,  as  if  newly  washed, 
that  also  is  remembered,  and  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  she  is  the  guilty  one  by  whose  wicked 
hands  the  boy  has  been  done  to  death.  She  is 
placed  in  custody,  maintaining  a  sullen  silence, 
and  her  countenance  still  retaining  the  angry 
scowl  imparted  to  it  by  the  fierce  malignant  pas- 
sions to  which  she  has  given  such  fatal  indulgence. 
Not  a  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  the  perpetrator  of 
the  crime  remains  when,  on  the  following  day,  all 
the  incidents  associated  with  the  murder  and  its 
discovery  are  brought  together  before  the  coro- 
ner's jury  in  the  presence  of  the  girl.  All  of  them 
point  to  her  and  to  none  other,  and  the  unani- 
mous verdict  of  the  jury  sends  her  to  the  grand 
court  of  assize  at  George  Town  for  trial  on  the 
charge  of  willful  murder. 

Three  months  have  passed,  and  the  court  is 
sitting.  An  able  and  impartial  judge,  Chief- 
Justice  Beaumont,  presides.  A  respectable  and 
intelligent  jury  is  impaneled.  A  large  concourse 
of  persons  is  assembled  ;  for  the  child-murder  has 


The  Murdered  CI  did.  563 

awakened  an  intense  feeling  of  interest  throughout 
the  colony  ;  and  Molly  James  stands  at  the  bar 
arraigned  on  the  capital  charge.  Two  days  are  de- 
voted to  a  most  careful  investigation  of  the  case. 
The  persecuting  counsel  exhibit  far  more  of  com- 
miseration than  of  harshness  toward  the  accused. 
The  judge,  while  exercising  all  his  eminent  ability 
to  set  the  facts  fairly  and  fully  before  the  jury, 
shows  tenderness  toward  the  child-criminal  be- 
fore him.  An  able  barrister,  retained  by  the 
court  to  defend  the  prisoner  gratuitously,  sub- 
jects every  witness  to  a  rigid  cross-examination, 
and  seeks  to  turn  all  the  facts,  as  far  as  legal  skill 
and  subtilty  can  do  so,  to  the  advantage  of  his 
client.  But  only  one  conclusion  can,  with  truth 
and  justice,  be  arrived  at.  The  girl  Molly  James 
is  "  guilty  of  the  murder."  Such  is  the  unanimous 
verdict  of  the  jury.  The  chief-justice  assumes 
the  fatal  black  cap  ;  and  after  a  touching  address 
to  the  criminal,  which  draws  tears  from  all  eyes 
in  the  courts,  and  is  often  interrupted  by  his  own 
emotions,  he  pronounces  the  terrible  sentence  of 
the  law,  which  is  to  consign  her  to  an  early  and 
ignominious  death. 

The  verdict  and  the  sentence  were  just.  The 
writer  knew  the  girl  very  well,  from  his  frequent 
intercourse  with  the  family  at  Broomlands,  and 
had  many  interviews  with  her  in  the  prison  before 
and  after  trial,  seeking  to  awaken  her  to  a  right 
sense  of  her  guilt  and  danger.  Of  a  low,  sullen, 
brutal  nature,  it  was  difficult  to  arouse  her  moral 
faculties  in  any  degree,  or  call  forth  anv  manifes- 
30 


564        Romance  Without  Fiction, 

tation  of  moral  sensibility.  Old  sinners  with 
seared  conscience  and  indurated  heart  he  has 
often  fallen  in  with  ;  but  one  so  young,  and  yet  so 
obtuse  and  hardened,  he  never  met  before.  Yet 
even  that  callous  nature  was  not  beyond  the  in- 
fluence of  religious  feeling.  She  quailed  when 
the  thought  of  standing  before  God  and  facing  the 
solemnities  of  the  eternal  world  was  placed  before 
her,  and  she  wept  in  prayer  and  read  the  holy 
Scriptures  after  she  was  sentenced  to  die.  Even 
before  her  trial,  she  acknowledged  to  the  writer 
that  she  "  killed  Master  Eddy  ;  "  but  it  was  not 
until  she  was  under  sentence,  when  concealment 
could  avail  nothing,  that  she  confessed  all  the 
details  of  the  murder.  She  had  for  a  long  time 
resolved  to  kill  the  boy  because  he  "  told  upon 
ker,''  and  she  watched  for  an  opportunity.  On 
the  afternoon  of  the  murder,  wdth  dark  and 
deadly  purposes  in  her  heart,  she  asked  him  to  go 
and  play  at  the  pig-pen,  for  she  knew  no  one  was 
likely  to  see  them  there.  He  refused,  but  she 
went,  expecting  that  he  would  follow  her,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  she  saw  him  come  galloping  toward 
her  with  his  whip.  He  struck  her  playfully  with 
the  whip  as  he  came  up,  and  she  rushed  upon 
him  at  once,  and  with  all  the  strength  she  could 
exert,  struck  him  to  the  ground  and  fell  upon 
him.  Both  of  them  fell  into  the  thick  mud 
flowing  from  the  pig-pen ;  and,  to  prevent  his 
crying  out,  she  held  down  his  face  in  the  dirt  till 
he  ceased  to  struggle  ;  and  then  she  sat  upon  his 
head,    and    afterward   stood   upon    him,    keeping 


The  Murdered  Child.  565 

him  down  until  she  thought  he  was  dead.  He 
was  never  able  to  utter  one  cry,  for  she  "  held 
him  down  so  hard."  Thinking  some  one  might 
come  to  the  pig-pen,  she  dragged  the  body  away 
from  the  place  where  she  killed  him  to  the  old 
trench,  and  placed  it  among  the  grass  where  it  was 
found,  intending  when  it  was  dark,  and  no  one 
was  about,  to  drag  it  to  the  large  trench  and  throw 
it  in  the  water,  that  it  might  be  supposed  he  was 
accidentally  drowned  while  playing  near  the  water. 
It  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  the  child  would  be 
missed  so  soon,  and  that  there  would  be  an  alarm 
and  a  search  made  for  him  in  all  directions,  and 
thus  her  purpose  would  be  defeated.  So  it  often 
is  with  evil-doers.  A  slight  defect  in  the  well-laid 
plan — a  trivial  oversight — furnishes  the  clew  which 
leads  to  detection,  and  the  foul  deed  and  its  perpe- 
trator, though  covered,  it  is  supposed,  with  impene- 
trable darkness,  are  laid  open  to  the  light  of  day. 
The  child-murderer  was  suffered  to  escape  the 
extreme  penalty  of  the  law  because  of  her  youth. 
Several  ministers,  of  whom  the  writer  was  one,  and 
others,  thought  it  right,  on  this  ground,  to  petition 
the  executive  for  a  mitigation  of  the  capital  sen- 
tence, as  there  was  something  revolting  in  the  idea 
of  a  girl  only  fourteen  years  of  age  dying  upon  the 
gallows.  Sir  Francis  Hincks,  the  governor-gen- 
eral, admitting  the  force  of  such  a  plea,  respited 
the  criminal  shortly  before  the  time  appointed  for 
her  execution,  and  she  now  lingers  out  a  wretched 
crime-stained  existence  in  one  of  the  prisons  of 
British  Guiana. 


566         Romance  Without  Fiction. 


XXX. 

The  Broken  Heart. 

Our  world  is  rife 
With  grief  and  sorrow !  all  that  we  would  prop, 
Or  would  be  propped  with,  falls  I    "When  shall  the  ruin  stop? 

Brain  AED. 

tHE  leaders'  meeting  at  Coke  Chapel  is  the 
most  formidable  of  the  kind  I  have  met  with 
in  Methodism.  Between  one  and  two  hun- 
dred class-leaders  were  accustomed  to  assemble 
every  Friday  afternoon  at  four  o'clock  to  transact 
the  financial  and  disciplinary  business  of  the  huge 
society  connected  with  that  place  of  worship.  The 
society  comprised  a  body  of  communicants  amount- 
ing to  between  two  and  three  thousand. 

The  date  of  our  tale  carries  us  back  to  the  year 
1839.  The  original  chapel,  obtained  and  adapted 
to  missionary  purposes  by  Dr.  Coke,  has  been 
taken  down,  and  a  new,  handsome  building  is  in 
course  of  erection  on  the  site  of  the  glorious  old 
sanctuary  in  which  so  many  thousands  of  souls 
have  been  born  to  eternal  life.  The  public  serv- 
ices, meanwhile,  are  conducted  in  the  new  school- 
room adjoining,  to  which  an  extensive  wooden 
shed  has  been  attached,  to  accommodate  a  portion 
of  the  congregation. 

It  is  in  the  school-room  that  the  business  of  the 


The  Broken  Heart.  567 

leaders'  meeting  is  going  on.  The  proceedings 
are  about  to  be  closed,  when  a  negro  boy,  covered 
with  the  indications  of  a  long  and  hasty  journey, 
enters  the  room,  and  respectfully  hands  a  letter  to 
the  presiding  minister,  to  whom  it  is  addressed. 
The  letter,  like  its  bearer,  exhibits  marks  of  a  long 
journey,  and  has  evidently  passed  through  hands 
not  altogether  immaculate.  The  recipient  of  the 
letter  glances  at  the  direction  before  breaking  the 
seal ;  which  he  does  very  hastily  and  with  some 
anxiety,  for  in  the  corner  of  the  envelope  he  has 
read  the  ominous  words,  "  With  all  possible 
haste.'" 

The  contents  of  the  epistle  are  brief,  but  start- 
ling ;  for  they  convey  the  intelligence  that  Mr.  B., 
a  minister  occupying  an  important  official  position 
in  connection  with  the  educational  department  of 
the  mission,  is  dangerously  ill  at  Stewart  s  Town. 
The  doctors  are  of  the  opinion  that  it  is  a  severe 
attack  of  yellow  fever ;  and  the  symptoms  being 
of  an  alarming  character,  it  is  considered  advisable 
that  Mrs.  B.,  who  had  been  left  at  home  with  the 
family,  should,  without  any  avoidable  loss  of  time, 
proceed  to  Stewart's  Town,  which  the  sufferer 
himself  also  earnestly  desires.  The  writer  of  the 
letter,  who  is  one  of  the  missionaries  stationed  on 
the  north  side  of  the  island,  expresses  in  a  post- 
script his  own  gloomy  apprehensions  as  to  the  re- 
sult of  the  attack,  and  urges  that  not  a  moment  be 
lost  in  sending  Mrs.  B.  on,  or  she  may  be  too  late 
to  see  her  beloved  husband  again  alive. 

Mr.  B.,  the   subject  of  the  present  sketch,  has 


m 


568         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

been  in  the  island  only  two  or  three  years.  Hav- 
ing been  in  the  ministry  a  few  years,  and  possessing 
talents  far  above  mediocrity,  he  has  accepted  the 
invitation  of  the  Wesleyan  missionary  committee 
to  undertake  the  supervision  and  direction  of  the 
educational  interests  of  the  Jamaica  mission, 
which  was  now  very  greatly  extended,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  removal  of  those  restrictions  which 
slavery  heretofore  imposed  upon  the  education  of 
the  now  emancipated  negroes.  His  wife,  with 
four  lovely  children,  increased  to  five  since  their 
arrival  in  the  isles  of  the  west,  has  accompanied 
him  to  the  scene  of  his  labors.  Some  eight  days 
ago  he  departed  in  vigorous  health  on  one  of  the 
long  tours  of  inspection  that  the  duties  of  his  office 
required.  To  the  grief  of  several  of  his  brethren, 
Mr.  B.  is  very  careless  about  adopting  those  pre- 
cautions that  are  essential  to  the  maintenance  of 
good  health  in  a  tropical  climate.  It  is  therefore 
with  more  of  regret  and  alarm  than  of  surprise 
that  they  receive  the  intelligence  of  the  dangerous 
illness  which  has  come  upon  him. 

After  a  brief  consultation  on  the  part  of  the 
three  ministers  present  at  the  leaders'  meeting 
when  the  express  messenger  made  his  appearance, 
it  is  agreed  that  the  senior  of  them  shall  undertake 
the  task  of  breaking  the  sad  news  to  Mrs.  B.,  and 
prepare  her  for  the  journey  ;  and  the  younger  shall 
immediately  make  the  necessary  arrangements  to 
accompany  her  to  the  bedside  of  her  afflicted  hus- 
band. It  is  a  heavy  blow  to  the  loving  and  de- 
voted wife,  who  is  attached  to  her  husband  by  the 


The  Brokai  Heart  569 

strongest  ties  of  affection,  and  whose  very  life  is 
bound  up  in  him,  when  she  hears  of  the  illness 
that  renders  her  presence  needful  at  the  sick-bed. 
In  heart-crushing  sorrow,  and  with  many  gloomy 
forebodings,  she  addresses  herself  to  the  sad  task 
of  making  ready  for  the  journey,  leaving  her  pre- 
cious little  ones  to  the  care  of  one  of  the  mission- 
aries' wives,  who  readily  undertakes  the  charge. 

There  are  no  public  conveyances  in  Jamaica  by 
which  travelers  can  swiftly  proceed  wherever  bus- 
iness or  pleasure  may  call  them.  It  is  only  by  a 
vehicle  hired  for  the  purpose,  to  be  drawn  by  the 
same  horses  over  the  whole  of  the  eighty  miles 
that  separate  her  from  her  loved  and  suffering 
partner,  that  she  can  proceed  to  Stewart's  Town, 
where  he  lies.  The  necessary  arrangements  are 
made  during  the  evening,  and  at  the  earliest  dawn 
on  the  following  morning  (Saturday)  an  open  gig, 
with  a  pair  of  stout  ponies  attached  in  what  is 
called  outrigger  fashion,  so  that  the  animals  can 
run  abreast  of  each  other,  receive  the  travelers 
and  the  little  luggage  they  are  able  to  carry  with 
them.  A  negro  boy,  mounted  upon  another  pony, 
rides  after  them  to  serve  in  the  capacity  of  a 
groom.  The  route  lies  over  Mount  Diabola,  and 
the  road  is  only  made  practicable  by  slanting  along 
the  side  of  the  towering  mountain.  This  involves 
an  ascent  of  some  miles,  exceedingly  fatiguing  to 
horses  that  have  to  drag  over  it  a  loaded  vehicle. 
The  day  is  far  spent,  and  the  horses  are  weary  and 
requiring  rest,  when  they  arrive  at  Trafalgar,  the 
present  residence  of  the  missionary  in  charge  of 


570        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Beechamville,  a  mission  station  beautifully  situated 
in  the  parish  of  St.  Ann,  and  close  to  the  road 
along  which  they  have  to  travel.  It  is  not  sur- 
'.n'ismg  that  the  horses  are  jaded,  for  they 
have  achieved  a  distance  of  about  fifty-two  or 
fifty-three  miles  over  very  rough  and  very  heavy 
roads. 

Resting  there  for  the  night,  where  both  them- 
selves and  their  horses  are  bountifully  provided 
for,  at  daylight  on  Sunday  morning  the  travelers 
resume  their  journey.  Their  route  lies,  as  it  did 
yesterday,  through  some  of  the  most  beautiful 
scenery  in  the  world.  But,  however  the  mission- 
ary admires  it  who  is  driving  the  vehicle,  the  poor 
sorrow-stricken  lady  at  his  side  has  no  eye  to 
observe  it.  The  beauties  of  nature  wear  no 
charms  for  her,  for  a  heavy  load  presses  upon  her 
heart.  Her  whole  attention,  her  whole  thought,  is 
occupied  with  the  loved  sufferer  to  whose  aid  she 
is  hastening  ;  and  in  perfect  silence,  as  she  did  the 
whole  of  yesterday,  she  goes  on  her  way,  replying 
only  in  monosyllables  to  any  question  addressed  to 
her.  They  have  rested  for  half  an  hour  under  the 
shade  of  some  trees  overshadowing  the  road,  as 
there  is  neither  tavern  nor  missionary  station 
where  they  can  halt  for  refreshment.  It  is  near 
mid-day  when,  as  they  are  slowly  descending  a 
.sloping  road  between  Brown's  Town  and  Stewart's 
Town,  and  not  more  than  two  or  three  miles  from 
the  end  of  their  journey,  they  meet  a  traveler  on 
horseback.  They  have  seen  him  in  the  distance ; 
and  as  he  draws  near  he  is  recognized  by  the  mis- 


The  Broken  Heart.  $71 

sionary  in  the  vehicle  as  a  Mr.  C,  the  Wesleyan 
school-teacher  at  the  village  through  which  they 
have  recently  passed.  How  does  the  missionary's 
heart  sink  within  him  as  he  observes  a  streamer 
of  apparently  fresh  black  crape  hanging  from  the 
white  panama  hat  worn  by  the  teacher  !  His  com- 
panion in  the  gig  has  observed  it  too,  and  with 
startling  energy,  rising  to  her  feet,  she  eagerly 
inquires  of  the  stranger  if  he  can  tell  how  Mr.  B. 
is.  The  person  thus  addressed  is  greatly  taken 
aback  by  the  question,  and  at  once  guesses  who 
the  inquirer  is.  Before  he  can  recover  his  self-pos- 
session he  has  communicated  the  intelligence  that 
Mr.  B.  died  on  Saturday,  the  day  before,  at  mid- 
day, and  he,  Mr.  C,  was  just  returning  home  from 
the  funeral. 

The  unhappy  lady,  who  has  partly  risen  to  a 
standing  position  in  the  gig,  suddenly  realizing  the 
mournful  truth,  gives  utterance  to  a  piercing 
sound,  between  a  shriek  and  a  groan,  that  thrills 
the  very  souls  of  the  hearers,  and  sinks  down  at 
once  into  her  seat,  leaning  helplessly  against  her 
traveling  companion.  She  does  not  faint,  neither 
is  there  a  tear  in  her  eye.  She  seems  as  if  the 
shock  had  turned  her  into  stone.  The  eyes,  wide 
open,  seem  fixed  on  vacancy,  and  every  feature  is 
rigid  as  if  with  the  coldness  of  death.  Her  travel- 
ing companion,  himself  almost  choking  with  grief, 
endeavors  to  address  to  her  such  words  of  con- 
dolence and  sympathy  as  he  is  capable  of  uttering. 
She  appears  not  to  hear  any  thing  that  is  spoken. 
It  is  in  vain  that  he  urges  her,  for  the  sake  of  her 


572         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

beloved  children,  not  to  yield  herself  up  to  this 
bitter  sorrow  that  has  come  upon  her.  Alarmed  at 
the  condition  into  which  the  terrible  news  so  sud- 
denly imparted  has  thrown  her,  he  urges  on 
his  jaded  horses,  and  in  little  more  than  half  an 
hour  reaches  the  end  of  this  painful  journey. 

The  unhappy  widow  is  lifted  from  the  vehicle 
and  assisted  into  the  mission  house,  but  she  is  still 
xri  the  same  state.  The  appalling  fact  that  she  has 
come  to  see  and  to  aid  her  husband,  and  found 
only  his  new-made  grave,  seems  to  have  come  like 
a  thunder-clap  upon  her  and  to  have  paralyzed 
all  her  faculties.  From  the  moment  that  the  intel- 
ligence fell  upon  her  ear  she  has  uttered  not  a 
single  word,  she  has  shed  no  tear.  A  low,  dis- 
tressing, plaintive  moan,  uttered  at  intervals,  and 
most  painful  to  listen  to,  alone  indicates  the 
fearful  weight  of  grief  that  is  pressing  upon  that 
poor  bereaved  heart.  The  All- merciful  alone 
knows  the  throughts  passing  through  that  troubled 
mind,  the  heavy  load  of  sorrow  which  presses 
down  the  soul.  Several  missionaries  and  their 
wives  have  assembled  from  mission  stations  around, 
and  all  that  loving-kindness  and  tender  sympathy 
can  do  to  afford  relief  is  done  by  those  around  her, 
who  share,  in  some  measure,  the  sorrow  of  this 
sudden  and  painful  bereavement;  but  the  sufferer 
is  insensible  to  it  all.  Stunned  by  the  heavy  blow 
that  has  smitten  and  crushed  her,  she  seems  to 
hear  nothing  that  is  said.  No  persuasion  can  pre- 
vail upon  her  to  touch  food  of  any  kind.  And  all 
this  time  the  fountain  of  her  tears  is  sealed  ;  not  a 


The  Broken  Heart.  573 

drop  of  moisture  is  to  be  seen  in  her  eye  or  upon 
her  cheek.  It  would  indeed  be  a  blessed  relief  if 
she  could  give  expression  to  her  anguish  in  a  flood 
of  tears.  It  comes  at  length.  On  the  fourth  day, 
when  those  around  her  begin  to  fear  that  reason 
will  soon  give  way  under  the  pressure  of  such  a 
load  of  grief,  an  allusion  to  her  fatherless  children, 
and  the  necessity  of  her  rousing  herself  from  her 
prostration  for  their  sakes,  opens  the  sealed  fount- 
ain. A  plentiful  flow  of  tears  now  relieves  the 
pressure  upon  her  heart,  and  she  gradually  awakens 
from  the  deadly  stupor  in  which  all  her  faculties 
have  been  held  with  such  tenacious  grasp. 

For  a  day  or  two  she  lies  helplessly  weeping  upon 
the  bed,  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  her  loneli- 
ness and  the  great  loss  she  and  her  five  children 
have  sustained,  a  loss  that  can  never  be  repaired 
in  this  world.  She  is  now  prevailed  upon  to  take 
a  little  food,  and  gradually  acquires  strength  to 
pay  a  visit  to  the  spot  where  the  manly,  handsome 
form  she  loved  so  well  has  found  its  last  resting- 
place  in  the  dust,  hidden  from  her  eyes  until  the 
resurrection  morn.  Heartrending  is  the  scene  as 
the  desolate  one,  weeping  tears  of  bitter  agony, 
kneels  and  bows  over  the  grave  of  the  departed,  as 
if  she  would  embrace  the  very  earth  that  covers 
the  beloved  remains.  Gladly,  most  gladly,  would 
she  close  her  eyes  on  all  earthly  scenes,  and  be 
laid  beside  him  there,  if  such  were  the  heavenly 
Father's  will. 

She  has  listened  calmly,  though  with  much 
weeping,  to  the  details  of  those  events  of  the  last 


574        Romance  Without  Fiction. 

few  days  which  have  left  her  in  the  desolation  of 
early  widowhood.  She  learns  from  those  who  have 
been  with  him  all  through  his  sickness  how  he 
arrived  there  on  Sunday  apparently  in  his  usual 
health,  having  engaged  to  preach  missionary  ser- 
mons on  that  day.  He  preached  both  morning 
and  evening  with  much  power  and  unction,  taking 
for  his  text  in  the  morning  Matt,  xi,  25,  26,  and  in 
the  evening  2  Cor.  vi,  i,  2.  On  Tuesday  he  began 
to  feel  unwell,  and  fever  symptoms  made  their  ap- 
pearance, which,  it  was  hoped,  a  good  night's  rest 
and  some  simple  medicine  he  was  prevailed  on  to 
take  would  remove.  On  Wednesday  he  was  no 
better,  but  rather  worse.  Still  no  apprehension 
was  entertained  that  there  was  any  thing  in  the 
attack  more  than  the  ordinrry  fever  of  the  country, 
which  soon  yields  to  the  power  of  medicine.  But 
the  fever  continued,  and,  on  the  following  day* 
fears  began  to  be  entertained  that  it  might  prove 
to  be  the  yellow  fever — the  "  vomito  prieto  " — so 
often  fatal  here,  especially  to  Europeans.  The 
symptoms  grew  more  and  more  unfavorable,  and  at 
midday  it  was  considered  advisable  to  send  off  an. 
express,  and  request  the  wife  to  come  to  the  bed- 
side of  the  sufferer,  who,  in  his  delirium,  was  con- 
tinually calling  for  his  beloved  Mary.  The 
messenger  was  dispatched,  charged  to  proceed 
with  all  possible  speed,  and  to  stop  for  nothing  but 
the  needful  refreshment  of  the  horse  he  rode,  until 
he  had  placed  the  letter  in  the  hands  of  the  gen- 
tleman to  whom  it  was  addressed.  That  he  was 
faithful  to  his  charge  was  evident  from   the   fact 


The  Broken  Heart.  575 

that  in  twenty-seven  hours  he  had  borne  the  mis- 
sive over  the  eighty  miles  that  separated  the 
sufferer  from  the  loved  one  he  longed  to  see.  No 
improvement  appeared  as  the  hours  wore  away. 
The  medical  man  tried  all  the  remedies  approved 
by  the  practice  of  the  faculty  in  this  part  of  the 
world,  but  without  effect.  The  fever  steadily 
progressed,  without  any  intermission,  through  all 
the  following  day.  As  the  day  declined,  the 
changing  hue  of  the  skin,  the  blistering  lips,  and 
increasing  delirium,  banished  all  hope  of  recovery  ; 
and  it  became  too  manifest  that  even  before  the 
wife  could  possibly  reach  that  chamber  of  sorrow 
the  fever-smitten  occupant  would  have  passed 
within  the  vail.  He  had  at  intervals  spoken  cheer- 
ing things  of  his  sure  trust  and  confidence  in 
Jesus,  and  the  bright  hope  of  life  and  immortality 
that  sustained  and  comforted  his  soul.  "O,"  said 
he,  "  all  is  right !  There  is  Valentine  Ward,  my 
father,  my  grandfather,  my  little  boy,  all  waiting 
for  me.  O,  I  have  been  the  child  of  many  prayers 
and  many  mercies!"  Some  reference  having  been 
made  in  prayer  to  "  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,"  he  said,  "  O  it  is  not  dark  !  all  is  light !" 
Another  night  of  restless  tossing  on  the  part  of  the 
sufferer,  and  of  painful  anxiety  on  the  part  of  those 
about  him,  glided  slowly  away,  and  the  morning 
dawned  upon  a  dying  man.  The  last  fatal  symp- 
tom, the  black  vomit,  came  to  herald  the  approach 
of  the  king  of  terrors,  and  about  midday  the  spirit, 
trusting  in  and  looking  to  Jesus  as  the  friend  of 
sinners,  passed  away  to    its    homes   in  the  skies. 


576         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

All  that  remained  of  the  active,  vigorous  man  who, 
five  days  ago,  entered  the  house  in  lusty  health 
and  the  prime  of  life,  was  a  blighted,  insensate 
clod  of  the  earth. 

The  poor  widow  derives  some  mournful  satis- 
faction from  learning  these  particulars  of  the  clos- 
ing days  of  that  precious  life  so  suddenly  broken 
off,  but  abundantly  more  from  the  assurance  that 
he  has  died  happy  in  the  Lord,  and  that  she  shall 
meet  the  loved  one  again  where  the  pang  of  sep- 
aration will  be  felt  no  more.  But  little  does  she 
or  those  about  her  anticipate  how  soon  it  will  be, 
and  that  in  a  few  weeks  she  will  follow  her  hus- 
band to  the  better  land,  leaving  the  five  fatherless 
children  to  an  inheritance  of  orphanage  and  the 
cold  charities  of  an  unfeeling  world. 

It  is  in  silence  and  sadness  that  she  suffers  her- 
self to  be  conducted  back  over  that  weary  mount- 
ain road  to  her  now  desolate  home.  By  easy 
stages  the  travelers  retrace  the  path  they  so  re- 
cently traversed,  not  then  without  hope  of  finding 
at  the  end  of  the  Journey  a  relief  from  the  anxiety 
and  suspense  which  the  affliction  that  called  them 
from  home  had  necessarily  produced.  Plunged 
in  grief  and  bathed  in  tears  over  all  the  lonesome 
way,  the  widowed  lady  encourages  no  attempt  at 
conversation,  and  scarcely  replies  at  all  to  any 
question  or  remark  addressed  to  her.  At  the  end 
of  three  days  they  arrive  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 
It  is  a  mournful,  heart-breaking  scene  when,  ar- 
riving at  home,  she  clasps,  almost  frantically,  her 
little  ones  to  her  bosom,  exclaiming,  "  My  poor 


The  Broken  Heart.  577 

children  !  "  "  my  poor  fatherless  children  !  "  The 
hope  has  been  fondly  indulged  that  the  sight  of 
her  lovely  family,  and  the  necessity  of  bestirring 
herself  on  their  account,  will  break  the  spell  of 
her  grief  and  restore  the  faculties  which  under  its 
influence  have  sunk  alm.ost  into  a  state  of  torpor. 
But  this  hope  is  not  realized.  Time  appears  to 
bring  with  it  no  healing,  restoring  influence. 
Days  pass  away.  Week  after  week  flies  by,  and 
there  is  no  sign  of  improvement.  The  desolate 
one  can  do  nothing  but  weep.  By  no  beseeching 
or  remonstrance  can  she  be  moved  to  feel  any 
concern  about  domestic  affairs,  or  even  to  take 
any  interest  in  her  children.  Even  the  last  born, 
whose  life  has  not  yet  filled  the  circling  year,  as 
he  climbs  to  his  mother's  knee  and  clasps  his  little 
arms  around  her  neck,  cannot  now  win  a  smile 
from  that  mother's  lips  who  so  lately  fondled  him 
with  all  a  inother's  transport  and  joy. 

In  hope  that  benefit  may  result  from  change  of 
scene  and  removal  from  the  house,  where  every 
object  serves  but  to  keep  fresh  the  memory  of  her 
great  loss,  she  is  prevailed  upon,  but  very  reluct- 
antly, by  anxious,  loving  friends,  to  remove  for  a 
few  days  to  the  residence  of  one  of  the  mission- 
aries. No  good  result  is  obtained  from  this  ex- 
periment. The  counsels  and  prayers  of  Christian 
ministers,  though  always  thankfully  received,  fail 
to  relieve  her  in  any  degree  from  the  morbid  mel- 
ancholy that  seems  to  have  marked  her  for  its 
prey.  "  My  heart  is  broken  !  my  heart  is  broken  !  " 
is  the  only  response  that  can  be  obtained  from  her 


578         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

in  reply  to  the  friendly  advices  and  remonstrances 
which  they  feel  it  their  duty  to  address  to  her. 
Wringing  her  hands  in  hopeless  grief,  she  moves 
about  her  chamber  or  throws  herself  prostrate 
upon  the  bed,  giving  utterance  to  low  plaintive 
moans  that  might  indeed  well  express  the  anguish 
of  a  breaking  heart. 

Medical  help  is  appealed  to,  the  best  that  the 
city  can  afford,  but  the  wound  lies  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  medicine.  Time,  that  often  heals  the 
bruised  spirit  and  alleviates  the  sharpest  of  human 
suffering,  in  this  case  brings  no  kind  of  ameliora- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  as  the  days  roll  on  more 
alarming  symptoms  are  developed,  and  it  becomes 
evident  that  the  brain  and  nervous  system  have 
received  a  shock  from  which  the  worst  results  may 
be  anticipated.  Reason  totters  upon  its  throne,  if 
it  has  not  been  utterly  overthrown.  The  sufferer 
no  longer  pays  the  slightest  attention  fo  the  chil- 
dren once  so  fondly  beloved  and  tenderly  cher- 
ished when  they  are  brought  to  her  to  divert  her 
from  her  grief.  Her  speech  has  become  often 
wandering  and  incoherent.  The  most  beloved 
and  respected  of  former  friends  are  now  looked 
upon  with  antipathy,  while  muttered  accusations 
escape  from  her  of  their  having  inflicted  upon  her 
some  unexplained  wrong.  A  strange,  unnatural 
fire  gleams  in  her  eye,  and  the  painful  fact  can  no 
longer  be  concealed  that  the  poor  widow  is  fast 
sinking  into  the  condition  of  a  maniac.  It  be- 
comes necessary  to  watch  her  every  moment,  and 
remove  from  her  reach  every  article  that  might  be 


The  Broken  Heart.  579 

capable  in  her  hand  of  inflicting  injury  upon  her- 
self or  others,  for  a  morbid  anxiety  for  death  is 
now  among  the  symptoms  that  indicate  the  wreck 
of  a  beautiful  and  noble  mind. 

It  is  well  that  the  physical  powers  decay  as  the 
mind  gradually  sinks  into  ruin,  which  is  not  always 
the  case.  The  shock  received  on  that  Sabbath 
morning,  when  she  met  the  person  returning  from 
her  husband's  funeral,  and  suddenly  received  the 
sad  news  of  his  death,  was  a  fatal  one  both  to 
mind  and  body.  It  struck  a  fatal  blow  at  her 
reason,  and  it  broke  her  heart.  Although  the 
stunned  energies  had  seemed  to  rally  slightly 
after  the  lapse  of  a  few  days,  yet  she  never  for  a 
moment  became  any  thing  like  her  former  self. 
And  now  she  is  manifestly  sinking  to  the  grave,  a 
fact  that  gives  dreary  comfort  to  the  friends  around 
her,  for  it  is  a  relief  from  the  misery  which  threat- 
ens, of  beholding  the  poor  sufferer  spending  an 
unhappy,  blighted  existence  under  the  restraint 
that  would  be  necessary  to  prevent  her  doing  in- 
jury to  herself  or  others,  or  as  the  wretched  inmate 
of  a  lunatic  asylum. 

How  sad  is  the  change  that  grief  has  effected ! 
When  first  she  set  foot  upon  the  sunny  shores  of 
Jamaica,  happy  in  the  devoted  affection  of  a  hus- 
band she  almost  adored,  and  surrounded  by  a 
troop  of  beautiful  children,  whose  superior  intelli- 
gence showed  the  judicious,  loving  care  of  a  moth- 
er's guiding  hand,  she  was  radiant  with  a  loveliness 
not  often  surpassed.  A  clear  brunette,  with  a  head 
of  luxuriant  jetty  hair,  the  roses  shone  brightly 
37 


380  Romance  Without  Fjctjox. 

upon  her  cheeks,  fresh  from  the  tempered  climate 
of  Britain.  A  soft,  mild  beauty  gleamed  from  her 
large,  lustrous  black  eyes,  where  also  shone  the 
intelligence  of  a  cultured  mind,  and  attired  with 
the  elegant  chasteness  that  a  perfect  taste  and 
true  piety  inspire,  she  appeared  a  bright  pattern 
of  womanly  loveliness — a  wife  and  mother,  whose 
virtues  and  excellences  were  well  calculated  to 
shed  brightness  and  blessing  in  the  Christian 
household.  A  few  weeks  have  sufficed  to  work 
a  most  melancholy  change.  A  deadly  paleness 
has  superseded  the  roses  on  her  cheeks,  and  her 
features,  sallow  and  sunken,  have  lost  nearly  all 
traces  of  their  former  beauty.  All  the  light  of 
intelligence  has  faded  from  the  dark  eye,  which 
now  only  occasionally  beams  with  the  fitful  wild- 
fire of  insanity.  Her  beautiful  arms  have  lost  the 
finished,  graceful  roundness  of  health,  and  the 
once  symmetrical,  elastic  frame,  wasted  to  little 
more  than  a  skeleton,  seems  to  indicate  that  the 
king  of  terrors  is  not  far  distant. 

And  so  it  is.  After  three  or  four  weeks'  con- 
finement to  her  room,  during  which  there  has 
been  no  interval  of  perfect  saneness,  there  are  to 
be  observed  unmistakable  indications  that  the 
end  of  this  tragic  history  is  at  hand.  The  pallid 
hue  of  death  has  already  overspread  the  counte- 
nance, the  damps  of  the  grave  are  on  the  brow, 
when,  suddenly  waking  up  from  a  light  slumber 
into  which  she  had  sunk,  there  is  again  the  light 
of  intelligence  in  the  languid  eye.  Turning  to  the 
good  old  nurse  who  has  tended  the  sufferer  with 


The  Broken  Heart.  581 

all  a  mother's  care  and  love,  and  who  is  indeed  a 
mother  in  Israel,  the  pious  watcher  at  the  death- 
bed of  many  a  fever-stricken  missionary  and  many 
a  dying  saint,  the  patient,  in  a  sweet,  calm,  natural 
tone  of  voice,  different  from  any  thing  that  has 
been  heard  from  her  since  the  stroke  of  bereave- 
ment fell  upon  her,  says,  "  Mother  G.,  be  pleased 

to  call  Mrs. ,"  naming  the  wife  of  the  minister 

in  whose  house  she  is  lying.  The  lady  referred 
to  is  in  a  few  moments  standing  at  the  bedside, 
when,  feebly  grasping  her  hand,  the  dying  woman 

says,   in  trembling  accents,   "  Mrs.  ,  I   have 

seen  my  dear  husband,  and  I  am  going  to  him. 
We    shall    shortly  both  be  wuth   Jesus.      But   O, 

Mrs. ,  my  poor  dear  children  !     Will  you  take 

care  of  them  until  they  can  be  sent  to  England  1  " 
The  requested  promise  is  given.  A  sweet  smile 
of  satisfaction  passes  over  the  pallid  features. 
Gently  throwing  herself  back  upon  the  pillow, 
^'ith  her  eyes  uplifted  to  heaven,  she  becomes 
gradually  still,  the  light  dies  out  in  the  eye,  the 
sunken  countenance  settles  in  the  rigidity  of  death, 
the  jaw  slowly  drops  upon  the  loving  hand  that  is 
outstretched  to  receive  it,  and  the  broken  heart  is 
at  rest.  The  pure,  loving  spirit  has  passed  away 
from  the  sorrows  of  earth,  and  the  stricken  widow 
is  a  widow  no  more. 


"  The  soul  hath  o'ertaken  her  mate, 
And  caught  him  again  in  the  sky, 

Advanced  to  her  happy  estate. 

And  pleasure  that  never  shall  die  ; 


582         Romance  Without  Fiction. 

Where  glorified  spirits,  by  sight, 
Converse  in  their  holy  abode, 

As  stars  in  the  firmament  bright, 
And  pure  as  the  angels  of  God. 

"  In  loud  halleluias  they  sing. 

And  harmony  echoes  his  praise  ; 
When,  lo  !  the  celestial  King 

Pours  out  the  full  light  of  his  face 
The  glory  of  God  and  the  Lamb, 

(While  all  in  the  ecstacyjoin,) 
Darts  into  their  spiritual  frame, 

And  gives  the  enjoyment  divine." 


THE    END. 


DATE  DUE 

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1 

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